All That I Am and Have These Days
by manywingedescape
Summary: It's been five years since Kurt last saw Blaine, beaten and bloody after an attack, but there he is in a coffee shop in New York. However, Kurt knows there has to be a catch. Companion piece to Can All Be Traced Back to You.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: These characters aren't mine, if they were, the show would probably be a little different.

**Warnings**: This chapter has a bit of violence of the gay bashing variety.

**Author's Note**: "All that I am and have these days can all be traced back to you." Back to You, Greg Laswell. This could probably be read/mostly understood without the original, but it wouldn't be as interesting.

* * *

**Chapter One**

_His hand's in mine and I feel safe. _

_That's all I ever feel with him around. I used to be so scared of everything, so scared that the world could break me apart so easily because it didn't like who I was. But with him, I'm safe. _

_It what I'm thinking when we leave prom. Walk out the doors and laugh a little at the ridiculousness of it all. Laugh at how we made it. How we walked into an event like that, danced together, and walked out untouched. We're finally safe in this world._

_But it's only a fleeting thought as we make our way through the parking lot towards my car. It's dark now, things like this always happen so late, and the lights are on overtop of the cars, but it's still eerily dark. Quiet, too. I want to revel in the softness of the night. But then I feel it as it travels up my spine: fear. Something's wrong. _

_His hand is torn from mine as he grunts out my name, pushes me away from him, shouts for me to run, and I don't know what's going on yet, but I know I can't leave him, I have to find his hand again. I can't run without him. _

_I spin around only to get pushed harshly back, not by him, but by someone else entirely, and I fall to the ground. I see someone take him by the arm and punch him in the stomach. All the air rushes out of his lungs and he turns to me, uses any breath left and tells me to go. But I can't. There's more than one attacker standing there now and my blood turns to ice as I watch a hulking figure brings a bottle of some sort down on his head, pieces of glass shattering as some lingering liquid sprays out, dampening dark curls as he falls to the ground. _

_A scream rips out of my throat and I try to scramble to my feet, but I get pushed down again, get harsh words that I barely register thrown my way, but all I can take in is the way that there's now blood trickling down his face. _

_I scream again, and it feels like I can't stop. It's his name on my lips, and the word is bleeding out of my mouth. I scream and scream as he gets kicked and kicked and kicked, another bottle coming down against his head. I can't stop screaming. Someone makes me stop screaming, punches me in the side and thrusts me violently at the ground again when I try to get up. I hit my head as my back yells at me when it meets the pavement but I have to save him, I have to stop them. _

_He puts up a fight, blood dripping over his skin, but he puts up a fight, and it draws the one hovering over me away, and I know in that moment that he's fighting like that on purpose. He's trying to take the attention off me. I'm screaming again. _

_A pair of arms sweep around my middle and I'm clawing at them, trying to get them off of me, trying to get away, to fight back, but the voice in my ear is Finn and I know he's not trying to hurt me. He's trying to get me away from this fight. But I can't. I have to save him, I have to save him. He's trying to protect me, why can't I do the same for him?_

_Finn's stronger than me, built sturdier from years of football, and he drags me off. My voice is hoarse but I'm still screaming, and I'm thrashing against Finn. I have to save him. I'm being carried away, but all I can see is his face, and it's covered in blood and he's stopped moving and I'm screaming, I'm screaming. _

_I see Puck all of a sudden punch one of them in the face, and I look at the group and notice that one of them is already down. I hadn't notice Puck before. But as Puck takes another one down, starts shouting abuse, my eyes dart back down to his face, and it's bloody, so bloody, I can't even really see his features anymore. His dark curls are matted down with the blood and he seems so lifeless. His arm is bent wrong and his limbs are limp, and I'm still screaming._

_The group breaks up, they're drunk and they've run out of steam suddenly with Puck throwing punches. Finn's arms loosen just enough for me to yank them off of me and run over to the body that's lying on the ground. My face is wet, and I don't understand why until I reach up and feel tears. _

_He's lying there and there's so much blood, but I can still see one eye. My hand gingerly touches his hair, it's soaked in blood and I've barely touched him. I realize I'm whimpering his name and I don't understand, everything happened so quickly and I'm shivering but at least I've finally stopped screaming. _

_He looks at me and I reach my bloody hand down to hold his, it doesn't seem broken, but I can't pay attention to that anyways, as his head quickly seeps blood all over the pavement. I can feel a scream starting to build in my throat. _

_But then his lips part and everything in me silences. Everything waits and just prays that he keeps breathing because this isn't fair, he's not allowed to leave me. He breathes out my name and a small cry pours out of me and I'm suddenly so aware of my tears. _

_"Kurt," he says again and I lean in closer, wanting to touch him and to hold him but not knowing if that's okay. It's not fair and I want to plug my ears as he keeps rasping out my name because it sounds like a goodbye, but it can't be, it can't be, not now, not like this._

_His lips close for a moment before opening again. "Kurt," he repeats and it doesn't make sense anymore, because that's not his voice. My name keeps coming out of his mouth, but it's not right, that's not his voice, that sounds almost like–_

"Kurt!"

My eyes refocus on my surroundings and something akin to disappointment settles in my bones. I've done it again, gone back to the last time I saw his face. Bloody, bruised, cut up. It's haunted me in my dreams for the past five years and I can't get it out. No amount of counselling or distractions can get it to go away. He's always there. He's always that boy at seventeen lying there dying in the McKinley High School parking lot.

But I'm not there anymore. I'm here, in Tina and Mike's new apartment, surrounded by boxes that Tina didn't want to unpack herself while Mike was at work.

"Stop thinking about him."

I turn to the voice, and I don't know how she always knows that it's him on my mind. But then again that's probably the reason. It's always him. Always.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I reply coolly. It's no use, really. She knows I was thinking about him, and I'm already mentally preparing myself for the speech she always gives. She means it out of caring, I know that she does, but I've heard it so often now that it's almost complete nonsense in my head.

Tina makes her way through the maze of boxes to where I'm sitting on the couch and drops down beside me, laying her hand on my knee. "You've got to let go," she says so softly it's almost like her heart is breaking, "move on. He wouldn't want you to–"

"I can't," I say and I know I'm snapping at her, but I can't. I can't get over him even though it's been years. I've tried, but I can't. He's the picture on the inside of my eyelids that I see every time I go to sleep or blink or do anything. He's the love of my life, and I can't just walk away from that unscarred.

She purses her lips slightly and tries to change her angle of approach, but it doesn't matter. Five years of this means that she's played all the cards already. "Yes, you can. Isn't that what coming to New York was about for you? Leaving the past behind?"

I shake my head, I've heard this argument before, it's what they all said when I pleaded to stay back in Ohio. I didn't want to come here to move on from it all, "I wanted to come here with him," I reply.

I can tell she wants to argue, she was always so good at making a point and getting her way ever since university taught her how to defend herself. But she doesn't argue, and there's only a small bit of fraying patience under her tone, "Well, he's not here."

I squeeze my eyes shut, and it's a bad idea, because it's his face again, not like it used to be, when we were happy, but bloody, terrified, and looking at me like he'd do it all over again just to make sure I was alright. I hate him for that.

"How would you feel, Tina?" I ask defensively, "If it were Mike? If you didn't know anything?"

Her nails scrape at my jeans for a moment, "That's the thing, you don't know anything. You have to move on."

"That _is _the thing, I don't know _anything_," my face is starting to feel hot and I can feel the dampness behind my eyes, threatening to shake loose at any moment. I don't know anything. No one will tell me anything. I know he was beaten to a pulp that night, I know that memory like the back of my hand. I know he went into a coma that night. But I don't know anything else. I don't know if he ever woke up. I don't know if he even survived anything at all. I don't know if he's dead or not.

I stand shakily, I need out. I need air and I need to stop thinking about this so much. Helping Tina was supposed to distract me for a little while, get him out of my head if only for a few minutes, but here we are, talking about how I _have_ to move on, but I can't. "Look, I should just go for now."

Tina looks uncertain when she looks up at me, "But, you were going to help me with all these..."

"Please," I scoff, trying to lighten the mood. I didn't come here for heavy, but it's all I seem to get anywhere. "You remember enough of my interior design ideas from high school to finish up here. You just didn't want to empty all these boxes on your own. Just get Mike to help you when he gets home."

She smiles a little and follows me over to the door as I shrug on my jacket. It's late April and while the temperature is warming, it's still a little cool outside. "I like this," Tina says as she fingers the lapel.

I preen a little and look down at the fabric, "I made it last week."

"I always knew you'd do fabulously," she grins, and I feel my face fall slightly. I always knew I'd be here with him, but I guess I was wrong. We don't know anything as kids.

When I leave I decide to stop by a nearby coffee shop before heading home. Some caffeine and a new space might clear my head enough that I can get a few sketches in. There's a shop close to Tina and Mike's new apartment that I used to frequent back when I was in school. I lived closer to this area then, and I stumbled upon it once, liking it for its charm and the part about it that always made me think of him. I've moved since then and it's not close enough to really go out of my way to specifically stop at this one, but I'm in the area for now, so I see no reason not to.

I'm debating what to drink when I walk inside the shop. It's a little different than I remember it, and my eyes scan around the place. It's during their travels that I see him. The same as I always do: dark hair, tan skin, thick bushy eyebrows. It's the same way I see him every time I pass someone on the streets, or turn the corner too quickly. He always looks the same, but whenever I blink, he's gone.

But this time, when I do blink, he's still there. At first I don't understand but then it hits me like a million pounds of bricks. He's really there. He's really here.

Blaine's here.

I stare for a moment, and suddenly I notice the changes. He's not the same as the guy my mind provides when I walk the streets and see him far ahead in the crowd; no, he's older, I can see that now. His face a little more mature than it was at seventeen, hair left curly and soft. He's different, but the same.

It's the distinct honey-hazel eyes that peek up at me after a moment that makes me snap my gaze away and I suddenly don't know what to do, how to react. It's been five years of waiting for this beautiful boy, and I don't know what to do anymore. I'm flustered, flabbergasted, all those fancy words that describe the chaos that suddenly reigns in my brain. I've been waiting on answers from Ohio, but he's here in New York.

Of course, I'd dreamed of him showing up at my doorstep, the same dreamy boy I'd been in love with all those years ago, but I'd never thought it would happen. That kind of life is reserved for movies and novels, and my life is neither of those. But, still, here he is.

Blaine hasn't moved from his seat, and I garner that to the fact that either he doesn't want to see me for some reason, hasn't recognized me, or that my thoughts have been moving faster than the speed of light and it's only been a few seconds that I've lingered in the doorway, evaluating this new unexpected situation. Had I really just been talking to Tina fifteen minutes ago about moving on? And now this is happening?

I start towards the counter, needing some time to think, needing to get my emotions under control as they get over their shock and start to wage a war against me, taking over and seizing my ability to function like a normal human being.

I can't help peeking back at him though, sitting at a table surrounded by papers and books: studying, my brain provides. I see him look up a few times at me as well, and I feel bashful enough to hide my face each time.

His expression isn't full of understanding, instead a little confused, and even a tad bit interested, as if he were considering making a move on me. But that's ridiculous. What's even more ridiculous is that I haven't said anything yet. Blaine's probably sitting there waiting for me to strike up a conversation. But my lips won't move. And that's ridiculous anyways, he's the one I know nothing about anymore, the one who practically showed up at my doorstep, even if it's in the form of a coffee shop. He's the one who owes an explanation for his presence. But that thought process leaves me even more confused, so I pay for my drink, and hastily sit down at a table near him, hoping to start something.

Blaine doesn't start anything though. He looks deep in thought, his eyes shifting slightly to me every now and then, but he shows no signs of recognition. Two can play at this game, I suppose, so I pull out my sketch book, intending to get a few sketches in for work.

I feel his eyes on me for a moment before they're not there anymore, so I look up at him. I look at the softness of his skin and hair, and the way his hands shift through his papers. I look at the scar against his temple, peeking out from dark curls, and suddenly it hits me, just like the fact that he was here did. And I understand then, life couldn't simply hand this beautiful boy, no, man now, back to me. The world would never work if those kinds of things happened. I understand.

Blaine doesn't remember me.

It's a moment of peace, the calm before the storm, before everything inside me is screaming, and I try to fight the urge to run, but I can't win. He doesn't know who I am. I'm in love with the man in front of me, and he has no idea who I am.

I'm biting back a sob, blinking away the wetness in my eyes, as I rush to get out of my seat. I need to get out of here, it's suddenly suffocating. I'm in love with someone who doesn't, and probably can't, remember me. My heart cries with the injustice of it all, and I need out. I need to think and wallow and get out, get out. So, I stand in a hurry, grab my things quickly, and sweep out the door with one last look over my shoulder. He's watching me leave curiously, but I can't think about that now. He doesn't even know me. Do I even know him?

* * *

I go back to the coffee shop more than I am really proud of. Every single day in fact. I barely take any time off at work because I'm so worried that unoccupied time will lead to my head swimming with Blaine's face, so I've got some time stored up, which I take now. My boss seemed a little worried when I marched in and declared that I was going on vacation for an undetermined amount of time, but he lets me go anyways. I've worked solidly for my entire time there, and he knows I'll come back.

I sit in the corner that I saw Blaine sitting in before and sketch all day, waiting. Waiting for something, anything to prove to me that I wasn't making it up. That it was really Blaine sitting in this very chair.

I never really made a plan when I came back, stumbling into the coffee shop early in the morning, desperately whipping my head around, hoping to catch his face. But he wasn't there. I'd been filled with such boyish hope. Hope that the love of my life would be sitting there like Prince Charming, just waiting for me to return, waiting to love me again like I never stopped. But he's not there, this is real life after all.

So I sit and I wait. Day after day in the coffee shop that's logically too far from my home to make daily visits, but I go anyways. And with every day, my hope seems to diminish slightly. I'd just been thinking of him too much that day, and so I made him up again. Just like any random stranger on the street who magically becomes Blaine, the guy in the coffee shop did too. He was probably terrified of the seemingly unstable man who couldn't stop looking at him. Of course it wasn't him. But still, I go back. Compelled to sit and wait. The hope I had once that Blaine would wake up has revived itself.

It's two weeks into my coffee shop sit-in that feels different. I arrive a little later than usual, but I don't panic about possibly missing him, I simply walk in, smile at the barista who goes about making my usual when she sees me, and sit, sketching a few designs. I feel calm today, like everything that needs to be in place is in place. I would question it, but I don't, because life rarely feels this easy anymore, and why would I want to jinx that?

The bell over the door rings a couple hours later, and I'm filled with hope today instead of restlessness as I look up. I blink once, twice, and then I believe it. It's him. It's Blaine. There's relief coursing through my body and I have to look away. He's here, he's here, he's here. He's real and he's alive and he's breathing. He's here.

I glance up once and see him walking towards the counter to get a drink, and then I look back down at my sketches, focusing intently. Sudden doubts fill every corner of my mind. What am I even doing here? Didn't I come to the conclusion last time that he doesn't know who I am?

I've thought about it a lot during my daily visits to the coffee shop, about him not remembering who I am. I haven't got it all figured out, but I got some working theories. He was in a coma when his parents last told me anything about him. The doctors weren't allowed to give me information and once the Anderson's moved Blaine out of the hospital to take care of at home with a stay-in nurse, they didn't have any information to give me anyways.

I never stopped calling Blaine's parents after that, trying, begging, to get any kind of information on what was going on with him. First every day, then every week, then month, and now sporadically, when I think I can startle the information out of them. All I wanted to know was if he was still alive, still breathing, but they never offered anything. As if watching my boyfriend get attacked and beaten wasn't enough, I had to live with no knowledge for the past five years.

And so I've gotten really good at my ability to rationalize things, to try and understand them, because for so long I had to make sense of what they did and what they hadn't told me. And so, just like I had to understand that, I had to make sense of this situation. If there was no recognition in Blaine's eyes the last time we saw each other, then it only makes sense that when he woke up from his coma, after however long he was in it, he lost his memories. Who knows how much, or if he'll ever get them back, but I don't want to think about him being in a coma for five years and only now waking up with temporary memory loss. Plus, it wouldn't even make sense what he's doing in New York when he should be in Ohio. If he's here, then it only means that he's been awake long enough that his parents would part with him.

He was here all along, and still his parents never said a thing. They probably hoped New York was too big for us to find each other again, but don't they realize that my soul is attached to his? I would search until my dying day just to find him.

There's a slight shadow over my sketchbook suddenly and I feel my eyes widen as they take in Blaine's legs just on the tips of my range of vision. I have to bite my bottom lip to steady myself. He came over to me. I don't really understand why, if he doesn't know me, but I feel so shaky. He's here and it's been so long, and all I want to do is start crying and kiss him and tell him how much I've been dying without him. But he doesn't remember me, so all I can do is look up at him and take in the beauty that is Blaine Anderson: the boy turned man who I couldn't stop loving if I tried.

There's a moment of silence as we stare at each other and it feels like a lifetime to be held in his eyes, but too quick before he's pulling back his gaze. "Thought you could use a refill," he says, holding up one of the cups in his hands.

His voice it was does me in. It's like his face, so similar but so different. Like he's the same boy I fell in love with, but at the same time, he's changed so much. His voice is a little deeper, but it's everything I wanted to hear, everything I've been waiting for all these years. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing can compare to what I'm feeling, and only a gust of air comes out. I have to close my eyes and steel myself, make an internal promise that I won't mess this up, that I won't just leap on him and start sobbing. If he doesn't remember, then I don't want to scare him, I don't want to frighten him away. I just got him back, and I want to be selfish, I don't want him to go again.

Blaine puts the drink down on the table when I open my eyes again and I look up at him. "Thank you," I manage. He smiles lightly, but his eyes look miles away, swimming in the depths of his brain.

I'm suddenly so nervous, it's like meeting him for the first time again and I flounder a bit as I invite him to join me. He chuckles and sits as I shut my sketchbook closed and I can suddenly feel in the air that we're both a little nervous about this. He asks politely about what I'm working on, but I push it aside. I don't want to talk, I want to hear him talk. I want his voice wrapping around me like the hug I've been missing.

"I'm Blaine, by the way," he tells me calmly and it's like my heart stops and I don't really know why. I guess a part of me was expecting this to be some cruel joke, was expecting Blaine's twin or something, or a really good look-alike. But it's him, he's just confirmed it, and I fix the smile back on my face so that he can't see how much I feel like I've just been run over by a train.

"That's a nice name," I reply softly, then add, "Kurt." I'm hoping to jog his memory, but I'm not sure I do. He reaches his hand across the table and for one crazy moment I think he's going to take mine, profess that it's all some silly joke and that it's him, it's Blaine, can they stop this game and just kiss? But it just sits there in the air as I watch it and I realize that he wants to shake my hand. I reach out and grasp his when he starts to pull back and my whole body sparks into life. I've missed him so much.

I barely catch the gasp that leaves my mouth at the feeling of his skin touching mine before he's pulling his hand back. I feel like everything inside me that got out of place over the last five years just fell back into place. There's no question that this is the man I belong with.

After we settle back into our seats, looking a bit sheepish after all that, I start on my task to get him talking, to hear his voice again. "What about you? What brought you to New York?" His eyebrow raising just a smidge and suddenly my words are ringing in my ears. What did I just say? He doesn't know me, I'm a stranger, I'm not supposed to know he's not from New York. "I mean, that is if you haven't been here your whole life, I just assumed for some reason." I feel like kicking myself in the face.

He laughs and it's not such a big problem that I just let that slip, so I relax. "I just moved here a couple years ago," he answers, "do I scream not-native New Yorker?"

I smile as relief fills me, he moved here a couple years ago, he wasn't in the coma for too long then. Before I saw him the first time, I was dreading that he was still in it. "I just had a feeling."

He starts to answer my other questions, "I go to NYU. I'm studying music."

I can't stop the joy that seeps through my veins at that. My Blaine, who protected me that night after prom, getting beaten and bloody, going into a coma, and still, here he is. My Blaine, going into music, doing what he always wanted to do. I can feel the tears as they start to burn at the back of my eyes and I blink rapidly to force them down, hoping he doesn't see, but he does.

"Look," he says, starting to stand, "I didn't mean to interrupt, you were obviously busy working."

I reach out and grab his arm without really thinking. I can't let him leave, he can't leave me again. I start to plead, and I know it must sound odd, but I can't let him go, "No, no. You didn't interrupt anything. Please, sit back down."

He sits and I have to explain somehow, but I'm not sure what to say. I finally realize that the only thing I can do is give him some form of the truth without revealing that it's him. I don't want to lie to him, I just can't scare him off with the truth. So I stutter through some version that leaves him out but tells him everything. I tell him that I ran into an old friend and that it's thrown me. When he asks if it was someone special, I sigh and tell him that he was. He is.

I suddenly realize that I've got his arm trapped under my hand. I hadn't been thinking anything of it, it felt so comfortable and so much like home that it hadn't occurred to me that I can't just do those things anymore. I pull back quickly and change the topic. Blaine asks about my work, and I talk for a while, knowing he doesn't fully understand it all, but that it's a safe subject for now.

I trail off from one of my stories and realize that he's staring at me funny. He's sporting a huge smile and it doesn't make sense, because he doesn't know me, and that's one of the smiles that he always saved for me. "What?" I ask, but he only shrugs and offers no more. I feel my cheeks heat as I laugh, "I'm sorry, I've just been rambling over here, tell me about yourself."

He opens his mouth to speak, but my phone lets out a small chime and for some reason I know it's Rachel. And when Rachel sends texts, you better read them immediately or else there will probably be dire consequences. I mumble a sorry and pull my phone out of my pocket and read it.

The happiness drains out of me as I look away, it was Rachel, and she needs me home immediately, another thing it's best not to ignore if you don't want her threatening your clothes with scissors and fire. I look back at Blaine and I don't want to leave ever, but I have to, and I can feel my eyes drinking in the sight in front of me. I'm terrified that I'll never see him again.

"Is it something important?" he questions and my eyes flit to his lips temporarily, remembering when I used to kiss him goodbye before going to deal with Rachel. But I can't do that anymore, so I shake it from my mind and smile back at him.

"It's my roommate," I explain, "I... I have to go. I'm sorry." I wish I could stay forever.

He looks a little disappointed, and I don't know what to make of it, so I start to grab my sketchbook and pack up, but he grasps my hand suddenly and it startles me so much I can feel my insides jump. He looks at me a little desperately, "Please tell me I can see you again."

I want to cry, or scream, or laugh, or just do something because the emotions in me feel so big. I don't trust my words, so I nod and smile.

"That French restaurant down the street..." he starts, "would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow? At 6?"

I feel my mouth drop a little, how did he think to pick French food, Blaine knew I loved French food, but this Blaine doesn't know me. He knew I wanted to try that very same restaurant when we were younger and spent days researching New York online. He doesn't know me now, so how...? I simply nod again and give him a bigger smile, "I would love to. I'll meet you there?"

"Yeah, okay," he says is a sort of daze.

I feel the smile take over my face as I brush his shoulder on the way to the door. I look back only once to see him touch the spot I touched, and I think that maybe something really good could come out of this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"Where have you been?" Rachel's voice yells from the living room as I open the door. I haven't even shut it yet when she comes barrelling out into the hall. Sometimes it's nice having Rachel as a roommate, she's generally clean and can make some really good vegan meals, but then there are times like these when most likely nothing has gone wrong, but she's gotten herself worked up and hysterical and forgets that at twenty-three I don't have to tell her where I am at all times.

I pull off my light jacket and hang it on the coat rack just inside the door, completely ignoring Rachel as she stares at me with her hand on her hip. She tries for intimidating, but that got old back in high school. "Would you calm down, already?" I say lightly, pretending she hasn't torn me away from the best moment I've had in the last five years, "Where's the fire? Why was it so necessary for me to be here right now?"

She huffs and pulls me into the living room by use of my arm and drops into her seat on the couch, "It's not like you were doing something really important. You're on vacation or whatever, which is still weirding me out, so it's not like you were working."

I roll my eyes at her assumptions but have to turn away slightly. Because I was doing something important, something very important, but I can't tell her right now, because she'll jump down my throat about it and then try to shove herself into the situation. Her and Blaine were close, especially after they were Tony and Maria in West Side Story, and I know that as distressed as I've been over these years, she's been almost as bad. Blaine wasn't the love of her life, so she got to move on, but he was her friend, and I know it hurt her as well that we weren't allowed any information.

I had been hoping that my silence would allow her to carry on into whatever the big emergency was, but she doesn't keep rambling and instead stares at me with wide eyes. Her voice is whispery and full of wonder as she gasps out, "You met someone."

My head shakes of its own accord, and I'm not lying to her, because I didn't really meet anyone, I already knew Blaine. But I can't explain that, so all she's going to get is denial from me. I didn't meet anyone. She continues to look at me and her eyes are a bit wild, fidgeting back and forth between some kind of sadness and electric joy.

"Kurt Hummel, don't you lie to me," she says sternly, wagging her finger at me, "You usually jump to the fact that everything you do is important, but you didn't this time, which means you're hiding something from me. And you wouldn't hide anything unless you met someone."

"I didn't meet anyone," I reply vehemently, "Just drop it."

But she's not going to drop it, I know that, and she stands and pokes me in the chest. Whatever she called me home for immediately is completely gone from her thoughts. It's no longer important in light of this news.

Rachel stares at me and I glare back at her. There's no way on the planet that she's getting this information from me. She could spill all her secrets right now, even the one about her and Quinn that I'm not supposed to know about, and I still wouldn't give her any of this. I can't handle what she'd dish out about it, and I'm being selfish, so selfish about it all, but for now, just for now, I want Blaine to be mine, and only mine. He's my secret.

She backs down after a moment, and her eyes go back to being somewhat sad and pitying. "You know," she says softly, "It's alright if you did meet someone. I... I miss him too, but... you can't wait around forever."

And she's hit the sweet spot with that one. Somehow when everyone else said the same information, telling me that I should move on, it always felt like an attack, but when Rachel would say it... it was more understanding. She knew what it was like to miss someone, but she knew what it was like to move on. She could understand, and that's what made it so much worse.

"I didn't meet anyone," I repeat, shaking my head.

Rachel just pats my shoulder and gives me a small understanding smile, "Okay." I know she doesn't really believe me, but she's willing to leave it for now, and that's enough for me. I won't keep this from her forever, I know that she really does miss Blaine, but for now I want to keep him to myself. I want to cry over the last five years and I want to hold him tight and never let go.

"So, what was the big emergency?" is all I have to say before Rachel's back in full force, her voice rising as she throws her arms around and complains about something or other.

* * *

I don't sleep well that night and by the time evening rolls around the next night I'm practically shaking. It's only hitting now that this is a date. This is practically a first date and I suddenly don't know what I'm doing. I haven't been on a date since high school with Blaine. Whenever someone would ask after, it didn't feel right, and I couldn't do that to Blaine then. When I didn't know what was going on with him, I couldn't just start dating other people. It felt so wrong.

And now I'm so out of practice when it comes to dating, has anything changed since I last was out? Are there new customs? New routines? I'm so horrible about all of this and my nerves are jumping everywhere.

Rachel notices when I put on a nice outfit, not too fancy, where Blaine and I are going isn't black tie, but I've still dressed up my casual enough that I know she's aware I'm going on a date. But, strangely, she doesn't say anything. It's like she knows that this is too sensitive a matter to get involved in, and that I have to do it on my own.

"You look really nice tonight, Kurt," she says as I head towards the door, full of jitters and way too early, but I can't sit still anymore or I'm going to burst. She helps straighten out the lapel on my jacket and her eyes dance over the pin I've attached. It's something Blaine gave me for my eighteenth birthday, and I almost panic because I feel like she's going to comment on the odd choice, wearing something from Blaine on a date with some other guy, but she simply furrows her brow at it momentarily before letting it go. "Have fun," she calls fondly as she pushes me out the door.

I take the subway to the closest stop to the restaurant. I could have walked, but it's a little out of the way and while it would take up all the remaining time so that I'm not desperately early, I don't want to start sweating in any way from the exercise. That is not the kind of impression I want to make while trying to win back the love of my life, even if he doesn't know it yet.

When I turn the corner towards the restaurant, he's the first thing I see. Years of looking for him at every turn have made it easy to pick him out. He's sitting on a bench, elbows resting on his knees, and his foot's tapping a little nervously. I suddenly have the urge to laugh. My Blaine, always my Blaine. He's the perfect picture of who he used to be, and it digs into my soul that whatever he's gone through, lost memories and having to rebuild it all, hasn't changed who he is at the core. Always so worried about making a good impression and sweeping me off my feet.

Blaine stands when I reach him and I'm trying so hard not to assume everything, but there's a wonder in his eyes as they roam over me quickly. I know that look, it's a Blaine look. I haven't seen it in a long time, not since the last time we shared a bed together, and I know he wants to look, drink in my body, but he's a natural gentleman, and won't linger unless he's got my express permission.

I take in his face, all the beauty of it and the small changes I didn't notice yesterday, as I breathe out a "Hi."

"You're early," he comments, and it's such a thing for him to do; point out the obvious.

I'm not too early, but he was here before me, so I give him a smile because my face simply wants to, wants to dazzle and delight this man. "So are you."

He laughs like he can't help it, like he's too giddy and it just bubbles past his lips. His hands flutter and he waves towards the door of the restaurant as he completes a somewhat bow before his face shades a little redder. "Shall we head in then?"

_Blaine laughs as he takes my head and bows, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. "You look dashing tonight, did you know that? You're going to put everyone at prom to shame."_

_A smile threatens to take over my entire face, swallowing me whole, so I bite my lip to keep it down. How he manages to be so completely fantastic at every moment, I'll never know. "Please, no one looks better than you."_

_His eyes sparkle as he stands back up and his eyes quickly rush over my body, taking me in, and I try to fight down my blush. "Only if you change your name to No One, because I'm serious, Kurt, you look..." he shakes his head as he trails off, lost for words, lost in thought, and I feel myself lost in him. I kiss him, because I don't know the words to explain how this happiness feels in me, and it's because of him. It's all because of him. _

_He pulls back and waves towards the door, "Shall we head out then?"_

I feel the way my face has softened in the memory as I stare at him. I want to touch him, just to prove to myself that he's here and this isn't some amazingly vivid dream, but I don't. Instead I head into the restaurant with Blaine at my heels, and we sit, making small talk before the waiter comes over.

Blaine picks something off the menu, and I know he's picked it randomly, I know what he looks like when he feels out of his league, and I could let him eat something that would be good, but not what he'd love, so lean forward, my hand moving to his unthinkingly and point at a dish on the menu, telling him he'd prefer it. He changes his order to it and I smile, sitting back and ordering for myself.

We laugh over some conversation before we hit a sore question. "What else?" he asks mystifyingly, like I hold all the answers to his questions, "Tell me more about Mr. Kurt... Kurt... Well, it seems I don't know much about you at all." He laughs, but my stomach feels heavier. This is more difficult than I thought, knowing everything about the man except the past five years, and he knows nothing about me. He should know these things, he shouldn't just be learning now.

"Hummel. Kurt, Hummel."

It's the second before he says it, and I know what the joke's going to be. He's the same as he always was, and I know. "How very James Bond of you. Blaine Anderson."

The laugh comes barreling out of my mouth before I can pull it back. I knew what the joke would be, but hearing it from him sets butterflies loose in my ribcage and I love him, I love him, I love him. I love him like I did the last time I saw him. I love him more than anything.

I don't want the fun to end too soon, so I make my face stern, serious, but I know there's laughter shining through as I hold out my hand, "Very nice to meet you, Blaine Anderson."

We talk for a while, waiting for our food, and the doors start opening, coincidences to him that strike painfully at my heart. I say I'm from Lima, and he calls it a small world. I wince and spin some version of the truth, tell him I feel bad for kids from around there, but it's really that he was there that whole time, there with me, and why can't he just remember?

"Tell me more then, about you." He leans forward, placing his chin in his palm as he leans against the table. He's so here, so real, so in this moment with me.

"Well, I'm not quite sure what you want to know."

Words fly out of his mouth before I'm prepared, "What's your favourite colour?"

"_I don't have a favourite colour," I say, laughing as Blaine's hands tickle my sides where we lay on his bed. He wants to know all these things, but I don't have answers for him. We're new at this; he kissed me only last week for the first time, and as involved in my life as he was when we were just friends, he's so much more present now. Like he'll die if he doesn't find out all these small trivial things. _

_He frowns lightly and kisses my cheek, "Of course you have a favourite colour, everyone has a favourite colour."_

_I blush at the intimacy that we settled into, "Well, I'm not mean to colours, I like them all, in the right context, that is." Blaine sighs fondly, noses at my cheek, and I know he's going to get something out of me. "I don't know, blue, I guess? I look good in blue."_

"_You do look good in blue."_

I look at him now, across the table, and I don't really have to think this time about what my favourite colour is. I know without any hesitation. "Red."

He scrunches his eyebrows and tilts his head curiously, "Why is that?"

I have to look away so that I don't scream that it's him, it's always him, doesn't he understand that everything I do is because of him. I'm only really here because of him. I live, I breathe, because of him. "I guess, someone I used to know... they wore a lot of red, and they were really special to me. I guess I just... red makes me think of them."

Blaine looks very serious all of a sudden, very uncertain about himself. "I'm sorry, Kurt–"

"It's not your fault," I cut him off. I couldn't bear him thinking any of this is his fault, not even the painful memories. Because that's not his fault. It's the fault of drunken asshole kids who don't understand anything, who can't understand love. I shake it away, smile, and move away from the topic, "What else do you want to know?"

"Favourite house pet?"

"I like cats," I answer, and then my mind flits back to Blaine when we were younger, jumping up on the furniture at Dalton and being so adorable that I thought the only way he could get cuter would be if he was covered in fur and had a tail, "but I'm partial to puppies sometimes, as well."

"Alright," he smiles, "What about your family? What's your dad like?"

I smile at the thought of my dad, back in Ohio, probably deserving a call from me at some point, it's been a while. "My dad's great. He is the one constant in my life, always loving me and caring. I don't know what I'd do without him." I pause and I know what the next question is, I know that he doesn't know right now, and it's something I don't want to get into all that right now. I'm only learning now how to be with Blaine back in my life, but without scaring him away, I don't want to think about how much I miss her. "Please don't ask about my mother."

He looks a little shocked, but he tries not to let it show. He just nods lightly and gives me an "Okay."

"I've got a step-brother, Finn," I say, leading him away from talk of my mother, and I realize that this is a first date, he doesn't know anything about me. I have to learn to keep my cool. "I went to high school with him, and then my dad married his mom, and by funny chance, we became brothers."

I watch as thoughts swim in his eyes, I could always tell what he was thinking because his eyes are so damn expressive. We used to have whole conversations just staring into each other's eyes, no need for real words. It was all there in the pools of honey-hazel.

"Sounds like an interesting story," he offers.

I smile. I can't tell him now, but I can tell him later hopefully. "Maybe for another time." I hope he lets me stick around for another time, I'm not sure how I would let go again. I don't think I could. It would tear me apart. I might actually die.

"That's the basis of my family," I continue when he stays quiet, "just my dad and me for a while and then the addition of Finn and his mom. Got by most of the time with friends."

"Good friends?"

I look away and think about all those friends from McKinley. We're all still in contact now, and it's strange how we've never actually been closer than we are now. "They became good friends. We were in a Glee club and therefore banded together, but at the end of high school... we went our separate ways, but that's when we became closer."

It's almost like I can see the question marks as they start popping up over his head as his straightens up, "Isn't it supposed to be the other way? That you grow apart when you go separate ways?"

"_You think I give two shits about the distance?" Santana scowls, "What they did... We stick together now, you hear?"_

_Mercedes places her hand on mine, "They can't take us. The whole world, whoever wants to take you down, they can't do it with us all backing you up, sticking by our man."_

_I try to give them a smile, sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, just getting denied any information on Blaine after hearing he was in a coma, having his parents tell me to leave, and I'm trying, but I can't find enough comfort in my friends right now as I can still see Blaine's blood dry under my nails. _

_Brittany crouches next to me and wraps her arms around my body, "For the rest of forever, Kurt. No one fights alone, we're all in this together." Puck pats my shoulder and I see Artie nod. I'm surrounded by my friends, and I suddenly know that these people are going to be there forever. For the rest of my life, I will have these friends. I can feel it in the ferocity of their words and expressions. We'll always be friends._

I have to blink to bring myself back and keep down the tears. I start to fiddle with a fork on the table to try and distract myself with. "It's just that... something happened around graduation and... we realized we all cared about each other more than we thought."

Blaine shifts a little awkwardly, "Can I ask...?"

"No," I say, shaking my head and putting my fork down. I can't explain now, but I hope one day I can. "Not today. Not right now."

He nods sternly and changes the subject. We talk about music for a bit, and it's easy. Just like it always was, and it's easy because I can pretend that this is really a first date, that I don't know him, as he talks about his classes and the things he's learned. It's easy and it's good.

When the food gets to our table, I make sure to stop and watch as he takes his first bite. I need to know if he'll like what I've suggested, if his taste buds are still the same as they were at seventeen. Blaine nearly moans as he chews and my cheeks flush at the memories that brings, but I laugh to cover it, happy that he's still someone I could probably persuade with food. "I told you that you'd like that," I smile.

He nods and the way he's looking at me rattles me up inside, blocks everything else out from my mind except him, always him. I need his voice like I need air, so I ask him about his life, since he asked so many things about mine before. He laughs slightly nervously and my mind's suddenly asking a question I hadn't thought about before, what does he even know about what happened? He doesn't remember me, so that means no one ever told him about me, never showed him a picture. But he doesn't speak of it, not first date material in his eyes it seems, and instead talks about from being from Lima, which sets my teeth on edge again, but he continues anyways, talking about his family. His mom, his brother, his little sister.

Nothing he says surprises me, I know his family, but when I ask about his favourite colour, it shocks me down to my core, because it's not what I remember. "Blue. Kind of like your eyes," he says immediately. He used to love red, would wear it everywhere he could. But here we are, five years later sitting in New York, and his favourite colour is his link to me. Blue, like my eyes. His widen as he realizes what he said and he stumbles around his words, "Uh, strange coincidence, I guess. I swear that wasn't some cheesy come-on line."

My face heats up as I smile, he's just as dreamy as ever. I look down and remember that I've got food to eat, I've just been so focused on Blaine. We talk a little more, about whether he likes cats or dogs, and it's dogs, of course it's dogs, and then we talk about school and my job and everything is so relaxed and calm and I start to wonder why I was so nervous before, this is Blaine after all.

It's too soon when we finish and find ourselves outside the restaurant, and I know we're both pretending, we both don't want this night to be over. Blaine looks up at me and he looks young all of a sudden, full of childish hope, and it's a good look for him. I'd missed it. "Would you like to go for a walk?" he suggests.

Relief courses through my veins, "Yeah, sure."

We joke around a little and head towards the park. I want to take his hand so badly, like we used to do when we'd take early morning walks around neighbourhood parks as the sun rose, pretending we were somewhere other than Ohio where we could do it at any time. I brush the backs of my fingers against his, hoping to catch his attention, but giving him the permission to hold my hand if he wants to. It's only a moment before fingers slide into my palm and I shift my hand to twine my fingers with his. I know a silly smile takes over my face, but I can't help it. I've been missing something for the past five years and it's this. It's this happiness and it's this Blaine.

We slow in the middle of the park and Blaine tilts his head up to look at the sky. I know he's looking for stars. He always did love the stars. Said that they were the parts of the sky that were special. That through all the darkness, they continued to shine, and that no one appreciated them like they should, took them for granted when they were the most magnificent things. And then he kissed me and told me that I was a star.

Blaine's humming now, and it sounds vaguely familiar. It takes a moment and then it hits me because I haven't listened to the song in a long time. Put it in a playlist with the others and told myself not to listen, because they would make me cry when I heard his voice. The one Blaine's humming now was the song that he wrote for me back in high school.

I want to cry, but I don't. Instead I slink my arm around his waist and rest my hand against his lower back. Blaine drops his head and looks back at me while lifting his unoccupied hand to grip my shoulder. I raise our twined hands and start to spin us as he continues humming. I've missed this too. Dancing with him always felt so right.

We dance until the song ends and he pulls us to a stop, but neither of us removes our arms. We look into each other's eyes and the air becomes tangible. Blaine's eyes drop down to my lips before he starts speaking. "Kurt," he whispers, his voice lower and it sends a thrill through me, just like it always did before, "May I kiss you?"

Always, I want to say, but I don't, and instead I offer a smile, although I know it's a bit tainted with the past. "Please," I respond, and I know it comes out as pleading. There are things I've been waiting for, and this is one of them. I need it, I need to know that everything can be put back together. That I can have him again and be happy.

He flicks his eyes between mine, my lips, back to my eyes, and he leans in. His lips brush against mine and I want to cry again as I gasp softly. My heart and my soul are practically bleeding with the force of my emotions and the feeling ripping through me, tearing me apart. I can't wait any longer, I can't stand the electric tease between us. It's been five years, I've waited long enough, so as he savours the light brushing, I push forward, capturing his lips, his mouth, the taste of him, and I feel dizzy with the feeling. Blaine, Blaine, my Blaine.

I have to let go of his hand, I feel like I could just fall apart right here, all my pieces and walls just crumbling before him, and I reach into the hair at the back of Blaine's neck to hold on to this world as it shifts around me. I pull him in closer and he does the same. My body presses against his as it tries to mould with him, tries to re-familiarize itself with the body it once called home.

Before I realize what I'm doing, my lips are parting and my tongue darts out to play at his bottom lip, and I need to reel myself in because all I want to do is explore him. It's like he's a drug and I've gone so long without him. It's so bittersweet to have him back. He tries to pull me in tighter, but I need to stop or else I won't be able to, so I retreat, and when our lips part, I can't keep in the small cry that leaves me. Blaine, Blaine, my Blaine.

We don't let go of each other and all I want is to kiss him again, but I hold onto myself, try and keep my head as I feel his breath stutter over my lips. I've missed him so much and none of this is fair in any way. It never should have been him, he shouldn't have tried to keep them away from me. I should have tried harder to save him. I shouldn't have made him go to McKinley, I shouldn't have brought this all upon him. I'm choking around my words before I realize, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..."

But he just shakes his head, his voice gone breathy in the night, "Please don't apologize. Please just kiss me again."

So I do. And I can feel him opening up to me, I can feel it throughout my own body, and so I take my insides, my heart and my soul, and press them towards him, because they're not mine, they haven't been since I met him. I was only keeping them safe, waiting for him to return to me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Rachel grabs my arm lightly as I leave the kitchen, a small index card bearing a recipe in my hands, "Where are you going tonight?"

"Just... out," I stammer. It's been two months since I found Blaine again, and I still have told him anything. Haven't said anything to Rachel, either. I've tried, on multiple occasions, tripping over my words, but I can never get them out right. And the longer it goes on, the more I can't find a way to say anything. I can't just tell Rachel that I've been hiding Blaine from her all this time. She's matured as a person since high school, but I can't be sure she won't shriek and demand to see him that very instant or that she'll start throwing my collection items out the window. After all these years living together, I'm still not sure if she would or not, but I don't want to take the chances.

She rolls her eyes, "One day you'll tell me who you're dating." I whip around to deny it, but she stops me with her eye narrowed and brows lifted. Of course she knows, I guess I haven't been exactly subtle, taking off every weekend, every moment I'm not at work, and she has commented more than once that I look more alive recently. "You know I'm happy for you, right? No matter what. If he makes you happy, then I'm happy for you."

I have to stop and smile at her because she's so earnest and I know she means every word. She'd be happier if she knew it was Blaine, but I can't tell her that right now. For now she rubs her thumb over my elbow and lifts the corner of her lips in a smile at me. She knows that I'll love Blaine for the rest of my life, whisper his name in my sleep until the day I die, but she sits here calmly and gives me the best advice anyone ever could: do what makes you happy. I love her for that.

I wrap my arms around her and kiss the top of her forehead before hugging her. "You're my best friend," I express softly, and she is. She's been here for me every single day, through every break down, every time I screamed and cried over how unfair life was. She's been there every time after I call Blaine's parents and try to get information out of them. She's always there. I find it laughable, actually, how when I first got to know her, she was just that annoying girl, but now she's my best friend. "I love you."

Rachel wraps her hands around my arms and squeezes, "I love you, too, Kurt."

We break apart and I head towards the door. Rachel leans her hip against the wall just outside the kitchen and watches me go. I don't get very far, however, because when I open the door, there's a blonde woman standing there. I'm used to seeing her by now, however. "Hey, Quinn."

Rachel rushes forward behind me and pulls the door out of my grasp and open a little farther so that she can see the blonde standing in the doorway. Her eyes go a little soft, and I almost want to laugh, because she thinks I don't know what's going on here. "Quinn," she sighs fondly, "You're early."

Quinn smiles at Rachel and gently scoots around me into the apartment, "Hey Kurt," she says as she passes before addressing Rachel, "Yeah, I figured you wouldn't mind." She looks back at me then, "Are you going out?" She sounds like she's trying to push down the hopeful tone in her voice, but she's not fooling me.

"Yeah," I answer, not offering any details. Quinn wasn't as close with Blaine as Rachel was, but they were still friends, and even so, Quinn's kind of brilliant, so I don't want to give away anything that might lead her to figure out the truth. I fidget a little and decide that if what I have a feeling is going to happen tonight doesn't, then I can always crash at Mike and Tina's, "I might not actually be home tonight, so... feel free to get really into whatever it is you two do when you're left unattended."

Rachel's eyes almost bug out of her face, but Quinn reacts coolly, saying, "Well, have fun," before toeing off her shoes and walking into the living room, Rachel spinning and trailing after her with a little wave at me.

An hour and a half later, a lingering kiss in the doorway of his apartment, and a wonderfully already prepared meal later, Blaine and I are mulling around his kitchen as I try to teach him how to make a chocolate soufflé. I know he's not really taking it in, but he's pretending, and it's such a Blaine thing to do that I don't want to stop.

"What are we?" he says suddenly. It such a silly question, and I don't know what to make of it, so I repeat it back at him and just keep doing what I'm doing.

When I look up his face has gone serious, and all I want is just a smile from him, so I wipe off my hands on a dish towel and smirk at him, "Well, we're Kurt and Blaine, are we not?" It's what we always were before. Through everything, from friends to boyfriends to lovers, we never stopped being Kurt and Blaine. KurtandBlaine.

He slumps against the counter where he's standing, his hip digging into the top, as he gives me an exasperated look, "You know what I mean."

I want to giggle like a little kid or something, but I hold it back. Getting Blaine back has been one of the best things in my life, and while being happy is one thing, I don't want to show him how much it affects me. I'm constantly trying to not scare him in any way. There's also a small part of me that hopes something's going to happen and he's going to remember me, even though the chances of that seem to lessen with each day. I lean forward and peck him on the lips. "I kind of assumed you were my boyfriend," I whisper before pulling back, my face dropping when I realize that maybe we're moving too fast. I thought I was reading him well, but what if I've only been operating on my need to have him back. "That's okay, right?"

He doesn't say anything and everything inside me starts to jitter because, oh god, I've made it all up in my head and this isn't what he wants and I can't lose him now, I can't. "I mean, we've been seeing each other for almost two months, I just thought... oh god, I've gone and over thought things and now I'm telling you and ruining everything and oh–"

My words, and effectively my thoughts, are cut off suddenly when he pulls me sharply into his body and nuzzles into my neck, "You are so adorable." And I swear I could just kill him in that moment, but he doesn't know how terrified I am that I could lose him so easily, and he's just being Blaine. The same carefree one from before the attack, and so I melt into him, because he's here now and sometimes I just want to smack him upside the head, but for now he's here and that's enough. That's all I've wished for in the past five years.

"You'll be the death of me one day, Blaine Anderson," I sigh, pulling him up for a kiss. I was aiming for something short and sweet but he's pulling me back in, flushing my body with his and my head starts to get dizzy. His kisses start to seem desperate, and I'm not sure why, but I take and take before pulling back, a little breathless, but trying to keep my cool. For some reason I know, I just know where tonight is going to take us, so I try to keep us cool for now. There's still dessert.

Blaine jumps up to sit on the counter, officially giving up on learning how to make a soufflé. "Do you have work tomorrow?"

I try to scold him for sitting on the counter, but it's his house, so I can't really dictate what he does right now. I'm still getting used to the new dynamic between us, and where I'd have been able to chastise him before for something like this, I'm not sure if I can now. "Nope. Day off. Why?"

The toes of one of his feet trail down the side of my leg and while I suppress it outwardly, a shiver runs through my blood. Not yet, not yet. Keep things cool for now. "We should do something," he says and it comes out a bit suggestive, but could also be interpreted as something nonchalant.

I stand and look him in the eye, I know if I play his game I'll be a goner in a few seconds, kissing and touching and I know we can't yet. Not yet. There's still dessert. "You should get a job, that's what you should do," I say instead, "I know your parents are happily paying for most of this, but really, Blaine?"

He laughs and I note one of his hands twitching, like it wants to reach out for me. "I have a job at the school during the year, I can make do without one in the summer."

I step in closer, between his legs, "You're impossible."

"But you like it," he teases, his nose scrunching up with his smile.

"Yeah, kind of," I shrug.

He grips my shoulder and pulls me closer, murmuring, "Come here," and then he's tipping my chin up and pressing his lips to mine, and I can't stop smiling.

It's only a moment before I can feel my head swimming again, and I'm getting lost in him, my plans are running away from me. But I'm saved by the oven dinging and Blaine positively jumps and I can't stop my laughter. "Just the oven, sweetheart," I comment, patting his leg and going back to put the soufflés in the oven.

"Do you have to leave early again tonight? I know you don't really like walking around these streets when it's dark." I don't, call it an engraved fear from walking into a still, dark parking lot with my boyfriend and watching him slip away, covered in blood saying my name like a prayer. But tonight, tonight I don't have to walk the dark streets, I know what's going to happen.

"I'll do anything to stay out later tonight," I answer, returning to the spot between his legs, my hands resting on his thighs, "Rachel's having Quinn over again, and I know they'd prefer I don't come home early. For reasons they refuse to explain but I obviously already know." I don't say that I told them I wouldn't be home at all anyways, giving them permission.

We tease each other for a bit until the truth finally comes out, that I'm not going home tonight, I'm staying here. I wish I could forever, call it my home. Even more I wish I could curl up in his bones, where it feels safe. Where his arms are my shelter and I feel like nothing bad can happen again.

I can't help it when he quirks his eyebrow at me and I need his mouth on mine, so I press forward, reach my hands around to drag him off the counter and fuck dessert, I don't even care anymore. It's him, I need him. I need my limbs wrapping with his and I need him, I _need_ him.

I pull him with me into the living room, still kissing him, my hand scratching at the base of the back of his neck and then pushing his shirt away a little so I can slide my hand down to feel his back. We've made out before, but this feels so different, feels so urgent and now we can go further and I've waited so long, I need this.

I run my other hand to his stomach to just feel him, to reassure myself that I'm here and this is happening and this isn't some amazing dream. Blaine's whimpering with every slide of my tongue and I can almost forget about what's happened and the past five years. I can forget the small scars around his hairline and the fact that he doesn't remember me from before. Right now it's just him and me and nothing bad.

Blaine runs his hand through my hair and a small hum rumbles out of my throat. I push him back a little and his legs hit the couch. I slide my hand around to his back and keep him steady as I lower him into the cushions. It's a practiced move from before so I know just how to not lose his lips in the action.

After a moment, our lips part for a split second because I can't even breathe right now I'm so lost in him, but it can't last for long because I need him and I'm pressing into him, but he's mumbling between our lips, "Oven?" and my head's swimming so much I almost can't understand what he means before I realize and part from him, sitting up to look over the back of the couch.

"We've got ten minutes," I answer, and I dive back down. The oxygen to my lungs has made my head refocus though, and this time it's a bit gentler, a bit more savoured. We can't rush into this right now, I just got carried away. He asks if we're just making out now or if it's more, and he sounds slightly nervous, and I realize that I have been rushing this, so I clarify that, yes, we're just making out right now, and I calm our kisses.

I slip my hand under his shirt and stroke over his stomach, his chest, his stomach again, feeling the muscles twitch and jump. In return, he tucks his fingers under the edge of my shirt and I can't stop the shaky breath that leaves me as my nails digs at his skin for a moment. I don't know if I can ever get used to the feeling of him touching me again after so many years of thinking I'd never feel that familiar fire as it races over my skin.

Blaine breaks away and ducks to kiss my jaw, which threatens to tear me apart inside as I shift to accommodate him and let out some kind of noise that even I don't understand. He trails kisses down my neck and then drags his tongue firmly across the skin of my collar bone and I'm no longer responsible for whatever sounds I make because it feels so good, and it was always the weakness that Blaine used to his advantage before. I feel like even though his brain doesn't remember him, his body must, because he's so easily finding all the things that make me writhe in response.

He presses his lips against me and starts to suck a kiss at the skin and it just feels so good I could almost start crying. I have to pull away before I do, and I force my face closer to his, kissing and kissing and kissing.

The oven dings back in the kitchen and its sharp ring brings enough clarity that I know I have to stop. Can't keep getting so lost right now, and I know I growl, but I pull back. When Blaine grumbles, I'm thankful that I'm not the only one who didn't want to stop. "That wasn't ten minutes," his voice rumbles and I can help but laugh for some reason because it's light in the wake of how desperately I want to get lost in him, and it's just enough to clear my head from the nice cloud that fills my brain around him and I climb off him to go back to the kitchen while Blaine fixes his shirt and joins me.

We eat the dessert while it's fresh and Blaine is his usual adorable self, leaning forward to kiss off some food when it gets stuck to my lip. I don't know if he can tell, but I feel like I'm shaking by the time we've finished and Blaine's rinsing dishes in the sink. I hug him from behind and kiss his jaw and I close my eyes for a moment, playing pretend again, wondering what it would be like if we hadn't gone to prom that night and if we'd be in a different apartment in New York right now, with Blaine washing our dishes as I wrap myself around him, waiting to go back to _our_ bed instead of just his.

He turns around and strokes over my face as I come back to this moment, this life, and he starts to speak, "I don't mean to be forward but..." and I don't let him finish, nodding and kissing him.

Blaine starts to shuffle us to his room and I can already feel the dizziness settling in. It's a good dizziness, a kind of lost where I'm only lost in him, but I find everything I need there as well. The kind of dizziness you get when you just love someone so much your head spins.

We end up on his bed, tangled and our hands are everywhere and I just want to touch him forever. He pushes me onto my back so that he's leaning over me and I can't believe I'm here. I can't believe I've gotten all this back. The love of my life is here and staring at me like I'm the single most beautiful person on the planet. "I'm so happy I'm here with you," I let out softly, referencing the past, but the present as well. I'm so glad he's back, I'm so glad he's here in general.

He kisses me again as he straddles my hips, exploring my mouth with his tongue. I press back to taste him, still a hint of chocolate and so much of him. I don't know if I've been savouring the taste of him since he got back, so I do so now.

I pull up on his shirt and he moves away so that I can tug it off and I feel like my mouth goes dry before he reattaches his lips to mine and then moves to my neck shortly after. There's so much skin and I need to know if it feels like it did when were seventeen. As soon as my hands are on him, I can't stop, smoothing them everywhere, feeling and memorizing every little change as Blaine starts to kiss down my neck. He's a little broader than before, more muscular. My hands burn as they move across him and I've missed this so much, missed him so much.

My breath hitches and stutters when I feel his lips brush against my stomach and I hadn't even realized he was unbuttoning my shirt, I was so caught up in all his skin. He dips his tongue into my belly button and my insides jolt before he's moving me, helping me get my shirt completely off.

He stares at me for a moment, reaching out and trailing his fingers across my stomach, and I don't know why it didn't occur to me until now that this is Blaine's first time. This Blaine at least. He'd stumbled over his words about a month ago when we'd been kissing, telling me he wasn't ready for anything yet, that he'd never been with anyone before and wanted it to be right. And while I'd known then, I guess I'd forgotten because all my head swims with are the times when we shared a bed for the night, sweaty and tired and worn out.

Blaine kisses me again and I reach up to hold him there, hoping to calm any nerves he may have that he's not expressing. It's in that action that I missed his hand travelling down my body and I catch it as it flicks open the button on my jeans, causing my fingers to spasm lightly in his hair. He runs his hand over the front of my pants, and my mouth goes a little slack as he kisses me harder. Then he drags his palm firmly back up to the zipper and my body practically convulses under him, pulling at his hair, and I'm not thinking when my hand goes down to tug at his pants, but he knocks it away.

When he's got my zipper undone, he tries to start tugging off my jeans, and I know I whine when he breaks his lips away, but I let him go as I shift my hips up and he crawls backwards, an extremely sexy move for some reason, but I think it's just because it's Blaine, and pulls them off as he goes.

I pull myself up and shuffle to the end of the bed, reaching up and undoing his jeans, sliding them off and letting him step out of them. He's there then, in front of me, and I just want everything we ever had before. I don't even realize what I'm doing until I'm up close and my lips are tracing over him through his briefs. The gasp he lets out travels all the way down my spine and his fingers thread through my hair, which causes me to smile and pull back, looking up to him as my fingers hook around his underwear. At his nod, I pull them down, my eyes following instinctively and for some reason without clothes, it's just us, and I feel calm. My head's spinning back and forth between the present and the past, it's old Blaine, then new Blaine and I decide to settle somewhere in the middle. Just Blaine.

I reach up, my fingers slotting around his ribs as I shift back up the bed, pulling him with me and then down on top before I roll us over, kissing at his neck, hoping that he'll let me take charge because I know everything that can make him feel good. He doesn't protest, only slips his hands under my briefs and eases them off as I awkwardly clamber out of them.

He runs his hands up the back of my legs and I press forward, lowering my body over his and I feel home with the way my lines and angles fit perfectly with his, like they were made to interlock. I roll my hips down and this is right, everything feels so right and good and a groan rips out of Blaine's lips as he tosses his head back, exposing himself more to me. He bucks up after a particularly hard suck at his skin, and my lips fly off him as I gasp in surprise, not having anticipated the move.

My lips move back to his of their own accord and our tongues start up a dance that's familiar but so new as I shift my hips, the heat of both of us lining up and Blaine cries out softly against my lips. I pull back, giving us space to breathe, and we let things cool as I get up, collecting the things we'll need. When I turn back to him, he's staring, and I'm reminded of so many times before when he'd smile and offer his hand, pull me back to bed and kiss me senseless.

I get a little lost in memories as I climb back up on the bed, nudge his knees apart, and then take a moment to silently ask him if this way is okay. He agrees and I settle between his legs, kissing him while my fingers, cool and wet now, slink down low, into him. He tenses, but lets me in, and I love him for how much he trusts me. How much he did when we were younger, and how much he does now.

He kisses me, but my attention isn't in it, focused elsewhere, searching and stretching, and his whole body rocks into it when I've found what I was looking for. When I can feel that Blaine's ready, I pull my fingers back and out of him, and he lets go of the claim he has on my lips before I look around the bed for the condom I dropped earlier.

I feel his eyes on me as I ready myself, and then I'm shifting down over him, smiling lightly as he stares at me with wonder filling his eyes. He's so beautiful like this. Blaine pulls my face down for a kiss as I run my hand over his leg, pushing it up for a better angle before pushing in with an ease left over from before, knowing how to position our bodies, knowing what works and what doesn't. Knowing what's right.

Blaine pulls back from the kiss, his eyes landing on mine, and he looks conflicted, a million and one things flashing through the slim rim of honey-hazel that's left. I'm about to ask if something's wrong, if I should stop, but he seeks out my lips again and kisses me almost desperately, his tongue pushing into my mouth as if he's trying to tell me something without words.

I move, my hips, my legs, my body, aiming for the angle I know works for him, and I have to squeeze my eyes shut because it's been so long and this is everything to me. There's a wildfire coursing through my veins, my blood, my skin, everywhere. Blaine gasps and I know I've succeeded, so I pull out, thrust back in, and his whole body tries to pull me in.

My head drops to his shoulder, it's almost too much, there are sparks shooting off everywhere inside of me, so good, so good, my Blaine. He runs his hands up my back and I know I'm covered in sweat, can taste it on him as my lips brush his sternum where they rest. "Please," he begs, and who am I to deny him?

I shift my weight to one arm and brush my hand across his stomach and down to where everything's so warm, touching in the way I know will short circuit his brain. He gasping and the noises that are tumbling out of his mouth are going to be my downfall. My body is less in my control now and more its own as it focuses on pleasure, pleasure, pleasure. I could cry for how good it feels. How perfect.

"Kurt," Blaine's voice breaks me out of my fog momentarily, it's weak and I know he's close. "Kiss me."

I move my head immediately, search out his lips, kiss him desperately and I can feel the muscles of his stomach against my fingers when they clench and it feels like the beat to some beautiful song. There's a small noise between our lips as he falls over the edge, and it's that sound that undoes me, pulls me from my body as it shakes, seizes and crashes against him, throws me into pure bliss. I'm sure there are fireworks setting off on every inch of my skin. My lips rip from his to let out a gasp at the explosion, and my body drops over his as I try to remember how to work my lungs.

When the uncomfortable burn of my lungs lessens, I silently capture his lips. The calm after the storm. There's a giddiness settling in my soul and it rolls out of me in a puff of breathless laughter, because here he is, here I am, here we are. I spent five years thinking I'd never get this back, and here we are. I can't remember a time I was this happy. Probably that moment before we stepped out of the high school after prom, Blaine laughing as he pulled me off into a corner and kissed me, and I felt light and perfect. That happiness, that's what this feels like.

We clean up, everything feeling so light and good, and I'm suddenly so sleepy, and if I recall correctly, I was always the one to fall asleep first after sex before. "Let's get some sleep now," I suggest, and briefly I imagine him laughing lightly, just like he used to, but he only kisses me as I snuggle down into him, using his arm as a pillow and he swallows me up with his arms as I drift off into sleep.

I'm dreaming, and I know that I am, because it all feels like it used to. His arm draped over my waist, my head resting on his other arm. I feel safe and I feel like nothing bad could ever hurt us, just like before. The world feels right again. And that's how I know it's a dream.

"Kurt?" he whispers against my forehead. It's soft, like a caress, and I never want the dream to end. I hum lightly in response, trying not to break the spell of this dreamland, and cling tighter to him. "Kurt," he prompts softly again, "I am so in love with you."

I feel the smile play across my lips as I burrow farther into him in the dream. It's like before, and he loves me, and I know. I can feel it in every movement and word. He loves me just like he always did, and while I have Blaine again in reality, this dream is so bittersweet, giving me the allusion that none of the past five years happened. That we're here again with love and nothing can harm us. I feel safe and in love, and for once I'm not scared of the future or the ball dropping and ruining this new life we've been building. For now, for a dream, I can pretend.

I feel his arms wrap more firmly around me and then there are words on my tongue. They are gentle and happy and I know I shouldn't ruin this tender moment of the past with a reminder of the present, but my voice puffs out of me before I have the chance to pull it back in. But the dream doesn't change when I say the words, instead fading lightly away in a haze of content to my words echoing in my brain.

"I'm so glad I found you again."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

It's early when my eyelids flutter open, awakening from a dream that I can't recall right away. Blaine was there, I'm sure of that. But he's not here now, which is why I woke, because I was cold without his body pressed up next to mine.

The bed is warm next to me, so I knew he hasn't been gone for a while. I roll onto my back and stretch, my limbs sore in a way they haven't been in a long time. Sore in a good way. I smile as I remember the night before and my insides jump around like I'm a little kid receiving some kind of prize for the first time. Is that what Blaine is, a prize? Have the best thing taken away from you, wait your five years, and then get it all back? I shake my head, I don't want to think about those kind of things. He's here now, and that's enough.

I can hear some movement outside of the room, the kitchen I suppose, the door to the bedroom is open slightly, so the sound makes its way in. I sit up and get out of the bed, remembering that all I've got to put back on are my jeans, which don't feel like morning after clothes, and with the way the sun's drifting in through the window, it feels too calm a moment to put the scratchy material back on.

Despite the sounds of Blaine moving around in the kitchen, it's quiet. There's a stillness to the air that feels almost familiar, but I can't place my finger on why.

I make my way over to Blaine's dresser, hoping he's got a pair of pyjama pants or something that I can wear. They'll be too short, of course, but right now I just want something comfortable, something his. I find a pair of sweatpants and tug them on. When I've got them on I pad around the bed, picking up our haphazardly discarded articles of clothing from the previous night and fold them, leaving them on the edge of the bed.

The sounds of cupboards from the kitchen lure me out of the room and towards Blaine. He's standing against the counter next to the stove, ingredients all around, cooking it seems, and I walk up behind him, running my palms over his sides and then hug him, hooking my chin over his shoulder. There's still that silence hanging around, I can feel it in my skin and in his. It makes me a bit uneasy, but I pay it no mind. Maybe that's just what happiness feels like, I've gone so long without him here, this is what settling in is all about.

We share some light banter about the making of breakfast, his nose leaning back to nudge at my cheek, his body melting into mine before I press a kiss against his lips, feeling comfort washing over me. He tells me to go sit down, so I kiss his cheek and drag my hands over him as I leave.

I watch as he makes batter for some pancakes and starts to move around, cooking for us. It's domestic and my head fills with all the things that could be happening right now if prom hadn't happened. If we'd be in our own apartment, if I'd still be wearing his sweatpants or my own instead, if there'd be a ring on my finger.

"_What are you doing?"_

"_I'm making you breakfast."_

_I laugh a little, light and still a little nervous despite everything. Blaine's parents are out of town, and with an extremely vague phone call to my father, I stayed for the night after the West Side Story show. _

_It had been an impulsive decision at the time, and I hadn't really been thinking about the fact that his house would be empty the entire night, and had only known that his parents weren't there at that moment and what I really wanted was to go to Blaine's house and share something with him that I didn't want to share with anyone else ever. Now we're here alone and it's like we're playing house. _

"_If you'd have woken me, I would have helped," I say, smiling as I wrap my arms around him from behind, "But I guess I could get used to you cooking for me some times."_

_He leans back and kisses me soft but lingering, "I love you. I'll cook breakfast for you for the rest of our lives just to make you happy."_

I stand and collect glasses and juice to clear those thoughts, knowing it's a life I can't have right now, knowing it's something that can't happen because of the past and all the things I haven't told Blaine yet. Maybe one day we'll have our own place, there'll be rings and maybe a wedding, all the things I've always wanted with him, but I can't have them right now.

When Blaine serves up the food, we sit at the bar in the kitchen and eat. It's calm and comfortable, that eerie silence still hanging around even when I compliment the food, it really is good, and Blaine's chest rises in poorly disguised pride.

"You said something last night, and I was just wondering..." he says, trailing off at the end before he shakes his head at my raised eyebrow. "It's nothing, never mind."

I'm curious now, what could Blaine be trying to bring up? I don't remember saying anything out loud last night that would rouse his suspicion about anything. My thoughts had been running rampant, but I kept them all inside, after these two months, I know how to refrain from blurting out strange things that he doesn't understand. I can't think of what I might have said.

"No, it's fine," I answer, and I can feel my noise scrunch up, suddenly worried that I said something dumb in bed last night, "I just don't know what it was. It wasn't something bad or embarrassing was it?"

Blaine shakes his head while looking back at his food, assuring, "No, no." He pauses and the silence, that quiet that's been fogging up the room presses in. "Who was it that you ran into that day?"

"Who? What day?" I ask, completely thrown.

He waves slightly, trying to dismiss whatever's bothering him. "That day at the coffee shop. When we first met. You said you'd run into an old friend. Who was it?"

No.

I thought we gotten past this, I thought Blaine had forgotten, and now it seems he's been sitting here mulling it over all this time. "It was, uh," I stutter, and I hate it, because I don't want to lie to him anymore than necessary. I don't want to hold anything from him except what is needed to not scare him off. "Tina. It was Tina. She just moved here from Chicago, you know that."

"Well," he says nonchalantly, but I can tell this won't go away easily, "I thought you said it was a he."

I don't know what to say, I don't know how to make this go away or be easy. I look down at my plate, it's easier to lie when I'm not looking into his eyes, when I'm not seeing that honey-hazel coated in a layer of suspicion. He's on to something and he knows it, but I'm not ready for this.

"I must have been talking about Mike, her boyfriend," I explain.

I hear Blaine's fork hit the table when he puts hit down. He's not angry, but he knows I'm lying, "Her boyfriend? I thought you said he was _special_."

I have to get rid of this, I can't have this argument. I don't know where he's getting to, but I don't like the direction. I can't tell him that it was him I saw, him who scared me and shocked me and tore apart all the ways I tried to protect myself over those five years. I can't tell him that he's a ghost from my past who showed up out of the blue. I can't tell him these things, I'm not ready for the ball to drop yet, I just want some more time with him, undisturbed by the horrible past we've both led but haven't talked about yet.

I look back at him, I need this topic to go away, "Are you alright, Blaine?"

Blaine looks at me for what feels like years, the silence in the air hanging like it's waiting for the punch line, waiting for everything to break. There's a fear in my soul taking root. Blaine's lips move and it takes a second for the words to make their way into my ears and to that part of my brain that can understand them. "You said that you were glad you found me. Again."

Just like that, the silence around us breaks, shatters, falls away and lets the waves rush in. My head fills instantly with noise, so much noise, the hum of the refrigerator, the cars outside the window, my thoughts screaming and screaming.

No. No no no. I know that I didn't say that, I know I was dreaming when that happened, I couldn't have said that to him. No, no this can't be real, I'm not ready. "No," I gasp out, I can't have him know this, I can't have him ask, I'm not ready.

Blaine closes off so quickly it's like he transforms into a different person, an angry person. He places his hands on the counter, looking like he's steadying himself. "So, what is it?" he asks, cold and hard, "I knew there was something about you. What is it?"

"_I don't understand, what do you mean they want me to leave?"_

_Hospitals are cold and I can't stand being in them, nothing good ever happens here for me. First my mother, then dad's heart attack, and now Blaine. I want to go in and see him, I need to clear my head, need to see him once more without the blood coating his face. Need to scrub that sight from my eyes like I need to scrub my hands of his blood where they're sitting against my pants, staining the fabric of my prom suit._

"_They politely asked that you go home, they'll contact you with any information they wish to share," the doctor says, and I know it should make sense, but his words are swimming around and I can't understand._

_I shake my head, "No... No, I have to see Blaine, I have to see him. Please, just... tell me if he's going to be okay."_

_The doctor gives me a sad smile, "I'm sorry, the most I can tell you is that he has slipped into a coma, and that we don't know if he'll wake up. I'm not allowed to tell you anything more about his condition. I'm sorry." And then he walks away. I still don't understand. _

I blink hard because I can feel the tears creeping up, my memories swarming my brain, Blaine's face is there again, bloody and nearing lifeless, and I need to cry, need to swamp my eyes with liquid to blur the image. I mirror Blaine's hands, gripping the counter, trying to keep myself calm. Here's the moment of truth. "I know."

Blaine freezes, his eyes suddenly panicked even as he keeps him body perfectly controlled. "Know what?" he croaks quietly, and I lift my head to stare into his eyes, and I know with that little action, I'm telling him enough, letting him know that what he's been hiding from me is what I've been hiding from him too.

I lean forward and try to take his hands, try to comfort him, but he pulls back. It stings, but I know that he must be shocked and startled and I'm trying not to take it personally. I have to explain some more, now that it's out there, I need to tell him everything. "I know about that last year of high school," I explain, and he visibly recoils away from the counter, "I know about prom."

"_Blaine, Blaine, please, please, just stay with me okay, please, sweetie, please."_

_Finn's on the phone behind me, talking fast and urgent about how much blood there is. Puck is pacing around us, grumbling and running both his hands over his mohawk, looking completely distressed, but I can't spare enough thought for him right now. _

_My hands are bloody, one touching the side of Blaine's head in his curls where I've found a cut and am trying to stop it and push all the blood back in, the other holding one of his hands. Blaine, strangely, looks to be in the least pain out of all of us, staring into my eyes, tiredly repeating my name over and over again as if it can keep him awake. _

"_I love you, Kurt," Blaine rasps out, his voice weak and almost gone and he doesn't even react when my tears hit his face, swirl in with the blood that's dripping off him._

"_I love you, too, Blaine. I love you, please just, I'm so sorry, I love you."_

_His fingers lightly squeeze mine for a second and then Blaine's eyes are drifting shut to the sound of my screams. _

Blaine shakes his head, not wanting to believe me, not wanting to listen. But he has to listen now, I need him to know everything if I want him to understand me, if I want him to stay here with me. "I know that you got hit in the head with liquor bottles and assholes' boots until there was more blood than skin. I know you were in a coma. I know about all of it."

I watch as he processes this, his eyes darting off to the side and staring at nothing as he thinks it all over. Eventually he stutters out, "How... how do you know that?" as he rises shakily from his seat so that he can pace in the living room. I spin around so that I can face him.

He looks so lost and so scared and I don't know how to make this easy. "Because I was there, Blaine."

Blaine stops in his pacing and looks at me. It's silent for a moment, like not only have the sounds stopped, but so have our thoughts. "What?" he asks, like he can't understand that possibility. I don't know what he knows of prom, but he obviously knows something, he knows he was attacked. He didn't know who was with him though.

"Did you think you went to prom alone?" I ask softly, afraid that any wrong word will make him flee, make him fly away from me. "You had a date. You had a boyfriend."

His eyes clear as he looks at me, finally understanding, finally putting all the puzzle pieces together. "You."

"_Will you go to prom with me?"_

_We're curled up in the sheets of my bed when Blaine says it. My first reaction is to laugh. My second is to kiss away his hurt expression. "Of course I'm going with you," I say through my grin, "While I appreciate the adorableness of such an action, you know you don't have to ask, right?"_

_Blaine chuckles a little and runs his fingers through my hair; it's ruined already, so I don't feel the need to berate him for it. "I just thought," he says hesitantly, "last year's wasn't completely awesome with the whole prom queen thing, and this year hasn't exactly been celebratory. I didn't know if you wanted to go."_

_I lean up and kiss his lips, before whispering against them, "With you, I'd go anywhere."_

I feel my face crumble, that night was supposed to be good, it was supposed to be something for us and everything was taken from us. "God, I loved you so much and then everything got torn apart." My mind flicking back to his hand being ripped out of mine, the bottle smashing over his head, my screams tearing apart my entire being. I knew then that nothing would ever be the same.

Blaine looks like he's having a hard time taking it all in, looks dizzy. "You were..." His face starts to harden as his eyes flick up to mine, he's getting defensive. He thinks I left him willingly.

"And I just wanted to stay," I beg, knowing I sound desperate, but I need him to know that I didn't go without a fight. I kicked and I screamed and my dad practically shoved me on the plane to New York, told me I couldn't stick around and get stuck in rut where I didn't know anything but couldn't do anything without any knowledge. My dad caught on faster than I did that the Andersons were never going to tell me anything, "but, your family... my family, everyone. They didn't let me stay with you."

He stares off into the distance, his eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed. "Why..." I've never seen him look so lost and hurt. I'm doing that to him, I'm hurting him with this. But I have to stay calm or else I'll ruin even more. It hurts me, but he can't deal with that now, he's dealing with his past crumbling.

"Because I know, Blaine," I reply, and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, but I have to. "I know everything. I watched you get beaten up while trying to protect me. I watched you slip away that night. And I know that you weren't supposed to wake up."

_I can hear the rings travelling through the line, and I'm sure by now I've memorized the exact pitch to this number. It's different to all the rest, I'm sure of it._

"_Kurt, please stop calling," Mrs. Anderson's tired voice states when she picks up the line._

_I sigh, "I just want to know how he is. I just want to know what's going on. Please. I don't really understand, but I'll stay away if that's what you really want, but, please, I just need to know if he's okay. Carole, she said that... that the hospital let you take him home to be taken care of with an at home nurse. Does that mean... is he doing better? I know he's not awake yet, but... is he okay? Please."_

"_Kurt, please, please, stop calling. I don't have any information to tell you. Just stop calling. You're leaving in a couple weeks for school, just let him go." It's hard, and it feels like a slap across the face._

"_I can't, Mrs. Anderson, I can't just let him go. I... I can't go to New York without him. Please, I just need to know... I just need..." I don't know when the tears started, but now they're choking me up._

_She sighs, and I know I'm not getting anything out of her this time. Just like every time, she won't tell me. "Kurt, please, for your sake, move on. Go to New York, and move on. Now please, stop calling."_

_She hangs up just as the first sobs shake through my ribs._

Blaine's face hardens. "So you decided to what?" he bites out harshly, ripping into my heart. "Play around with my feelings now?"

It stings, tears into my soul, crushes my heart and my hope. I don't know how to repair this. "No. God, no," I plead, I need him to understand but I don't know how. I know that he can't understand right now, he doesn't know enough, but I don't know what to do.

He starts to pace in front of the couch, his fist clenching in his anger, he's searching for the answers, but he's too worked up to really have it seep into him. "Then what were you doing?" he asks. "Not telling me?"

I need him to sit, I need him to calm down, because him getting worked up isn't helping me trying to explain it. I'm angry, deep inside, something I pushed down because I knew it wouldn't get me anywhere, and the more Blaine paces, the more his voice rises, the more I feel it in me. Birds waking up and starting to flap their wings, start building up a ruckus inside me. "It's so complicated, Blaine," I say, keep calm through my exhaustion and anger, "Please, just, can we just sit and talk about this?"

"Alright then," he replies determinedly, striding over and sitting on his previously vacated stool, facing me. "Story for a story?"

I'm confused again; I don't know what he wants. "What?"

He looks me dead in the eye, it's the first real eye contact we've had since this started and I can see the hurt in his eyes, the confusion and the pain. He gets up again after a few seconds, ripping his eyes away from mine, and turns his back to me when he reaches the living room again. When he speaks, his voice is quiet, "I tell you what I've been told, and you tell me what really happened."

"Blaine..." He turns back to me and he's practically asking for me to punch him, bring back all the pain he must have felt curled up and dying on the pavement. I'll have to hurt myself to hurt him like this. My eyesight goes wobbly as tears start to fill my eyes

"No. They lied to me. I want to know what happened." Blaine stops and his eyes roam over my face. "God, I don't even know you," he cries suddenly.

I won't take that, he knows me. I'm here now, I have been for the past two months, he knows me. "Yes, you do."

Blaine throws his hands in the air, and I know we've hit the breaking point, his anger will make me angry, and mine will do the same to him. His hands curl into fist in front of him, a fighters stance, his years of boxing coming back to him, I wonder if he remembers any of that. "No, I don't!" he practically screams.

"I'm the same guy you took to dinner, the same guy you kissed under the stars!" my voice is starting to raise, but I've got to hold myself back, I've got to try and stay calm or else this will be explosive. "I didn't lie to you about anything other than that I already knew you."

He shakes his head, "Why did you do it?"

"I had to!" the words screaming out of me before I can pull them in. I had to, and I hated it. Because Blaine didn't know, no one told him, and I couldn't just throw something like that at him. Why would he trust a stranger over what his parents told him? "They obviously didn't want you to know. They must have thought it would be easier."

Blaine starts to droop, starts to look more exhausted than angry, all this information coming towards him and taking him down. "How would that be easier?" he asks.

"Because you'd been gone so long, and I was already here, and I'd been trying to move on, I couldn't, but I was trying," I attempt to explain, weariness taking over me as well and my head swims around in all those years of pain. "They said you wouldn't wake up. I guess they just thought it would be easier if you didn't know."

"But, why?" Blaine looks like a small child, standing on the edge of the living room, pleading with his eyes for some answers. But I don't have these answers, I only have what I've learned to tell myself over the years so that I don't actually die inside.

I feel wilted when I reply, "We were just two kids in love, Blaine." I shake my head, knowing that I hate this explanation, but it's the only thing I could ever think of to rationalize what his parents did. "Who'd have known what would have happened if you didn't get bashed in the head. Who'd have known if we'd still be together. They didn't know what it felt like to us. They just wanted to protect you."

Blaine comes alive again, his voice still quiet, but this time harsh, piercing through me, "And what about you? Why didn't you say anything? Why'd you lie to me?"

My insides snap and I can't hold it in anymore, I can't hold in the pain, I have to scream, "I didn't even know you were awake!" It rips into my soul, it aches and tears at every piece inside of me that tried to repair itself when I got to New York five years ago and cried over how I could never forgive myself for leaving him. The tears that had been swimming in my vision break free and I feel them trail over my cheeks.

"They didn't want me to know anymore," I continue, my voice dropping so that I'm not screaming, but the pain is still painting the air when it comes rushing out. "They stopped telling me about you years ago. They didn't want me to know, and I couldn't handle it, so I had to stop asking."

I can feel myself shaking, can feel my bones quivering and trying to break apart. I can see how my words are hitting Blaine, there are tears in his eyes now, but I have to keep yelling because it hurts and I'm finally getting it out, finally telling Blaine what it felt like to have to live like that. "Do you know how hard that was for me? And when I walked into the coffee shop that day and saw you? I didn't even know you were awake!"

A sob rips through me and Blaine looks away, looks startled by what I'm saying. Looking so hurt and I wish I could take it back just so he wouldn't look hurt, but I couldn't hold it in any longer, I didn't know how to explain it. Blaine reaches out and drags his hand across the wall as he sinks to the floor, leaning heavily against it. "That's why you looked like you'd seen a ghost..." he whispers, and it's hard for me to hear him, so I know he's speaking to himself more than me, "to you, I was already dead."

I practically leap off my chair, he can't think like that, I can't let him think I thought he was dead. He couldn't be dead to me. No matter what, he'd be there with me somehow, he had to be. I couldn't live in a world where Blaine was dead. I didn't know if he was alive, but I couldn't bring myself to believe he was dead, he couldn't be to me.

I brush off his tears that must have started when he turned and sunk to ground. "No, you weren't," I say fiercely, needing him to believe me, "You were never dead to me. I loved you, and I never stopped. You could never be dead to me.

Blaine looks up at me for a moment, taking in my face, before he snuggles into my chest, grasping my hands and pulling them around him until I understand that he wants to be held. I can't make everything better, but if this is what he wants from me, I'll hold him until the day I die.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Alas, we have come to the end again. I hope you've enjoyed this story from Kurt's pov as much as you enjoyed it from Blaine's pov. Thank you all very very much for reading and reviewing and even just wanting to read this story, it means a lot to me, so thank you very very much. _

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**Chapter Five**

I get Blaine up and back into the bedroom, lying on his side on the bed. After some hesitation on my part, he pulls me down so that I'm lying behind him, my chest to his back. I wasn't sure what he wanted, what he needed, be it space or comfort. I've just given him a different perspective to the past five years of his life, at least. He never did tell me how much he lost before the attack.

My head is so filled with everything, but it feels so empty at the same time, replaying our screaming in the living room over and over again, but giving me nothing on how to make it all better. I can't take everything that happened and make it go away, all I can do is try and make him feel a little better right now.

I twine our fingers and bring them up to his chest, his heart, feeling it pulse against my fingers, allowing the feeling to soothe me and hope that I can help him like this. "If it's any consolation," I whisper into his shoulder when I can finally find my voice, "I thank a god I don't believe in every day for finding you again."

Blaine doesn't respond, so I stay quiet. I don't know what else there is to say right now, more or less speaking when the words come to me. Besides, I don't know if my words are helping any, he looks like he's lost in thought enough as it is, his eyebrows drawing in as he stares towards the wall. He starts to shake slightly, just a small rumble under his skin, so I pull him back against me even closer, hoping that he'll take our bodies pressing close as the comfort I intend.

I know he needs some more explanations, and I want to assure him that I never stopped fighting for him, never stopped hoping I'd get him back, so I keep talking as the words come to me, "I had called home about a month before I ran into you that first time. They said there was no news to give me."

Blaine still doesn't speak, and I'm not sure if those were the words he needed or not because he seems so much more lost than he did before. He gently squeezes my hand, and I know it's okay now, so I keep talking, "I think they just thought it was easier. They figured that I had a life out here and that it would be simpler for you to just start fresh."

I'm still trying to rationalize their actions, I know they had their reasons, I know they didn't cut me out for nothing, but I still don't really know why. I hope that one day I can find out.

"You were my boyfriend, Kurt," Blaine croaks finally, and my whole body tightens around his on instinct, trying to get rid of the pain that's bleeding out of his mouth with those words. "We loved each other."

"I know," I say softly, trying to answer questions that I don't know the answers to, trying to be the strong one for Blaine. "I... I don't know why they did it."

He sighs and rolls in my arms so that he's facing me before raising his hand and stroking across my cheek. It's soothing and I can feel how he cares even if I'm still worried about how everything could easily crash down over us. He leans in and kisses me and it feels like he's trying to settle my doubts, how he knows just what I need, I don't know, but I feel my body relax into his and I kiss back. When Blaine pulls back he breathes across my lips, "I trust you."

All my reservations fly out the window for that moment, my body practically collapsing into his. I feel needy and young, desiring constant confirmation that he's here with me and that he's not going anywhere this time. I'm trying to be strong, but all I can feel is fear.

I reach between us and wipe away a tear that's leaked out of Blaine's eye, but before I can get there, he catches my hand and presses a kiss into my skin. "Please tell me, though," he pleads, "tell me about the people I knew and the things that happened."

I have a sudden idea, and I sit up, pulling him up after me when he lets out a small whine at the loss of body heat. Once we're seated, I lean back and grab my phone from the pocket of my jeans, which are still sitting on the edge of the bed with the rest of our discarded clothing. I shuffle closer to Blaine, flicking through the pictures on my phone until I find the right one and present it to him, "Here."

Blaine lets out a breath of startled air when he sees it. It's a picture of us and the rest of the New Direction kids after our win at Regional's senior year. I can tell the way his eyes zero in on him and me standing just off centre, holding hands tightly, and grinning for the camera. A sob breaks out of his chest and I rub my hand up his back between his shoulders to comfort him. "Hey, hey. I'll introduce you to them all."

So, that's what I do. Blaine leans into me and rests his head on my shoulder while we go through them. I let him meet all his friends through this picture. Point out Rachel and Quinn, so that he can put a face to the names I've given him when talking about my roommate and her "friend." I talk a little about Quinn's accident that happened right after that picture was taken. Show him Finn, who Rachel was supposed to marry that night.

We get sidetracked for a moment, talking about marriages, and about us, and my heart hurts because I wanted it with him, and I know that we're still young, but I'd hoped we'd have plans for it by now. But I kiss his head instead of voicing my pain and tell him that we always said it would be one day. One day could still be any day. Maybe.

Blaine tenses, so we move on. I show him Brittany and Santana, who look happy holding hands. Who finally got together after all that toeing around each other and are now out in Vermont. I tell him about Sugar and her randomness. There's Tina and Mike, and I explain that they're here now, but that Mike wasn't the special guy I ran into before the coffee shop. Tell him that Mike and him became really good friends in high school.

I move on and show him Mercedes and Sam, who are out in California now. And then there's Puck, who took on Blaine's attackers and tried to hunt them down in the days and weeks following. I show him Artie and Rory.

When we finish, Blaine's squeezing his eyes shut and burying his face into me. I know it's been a lot for him to take in, and it's hard, but he wanted to know, and he needed to know. These are the things his family kept from him, he had all these friends and he didn't even know. One day he'll have to meet them in person, but for now, this picture can show him the past.

I pull the phone out of his hands where he held it so that I could point out who was who, and then I wrap my arms around him and hold him tight, trying to ease some form of comfort into him. He wraps his hands around my waist and suddenly he seems hesitant. I pull back before he can say anything, I'm not ready for him to tell me to go. "It's going to be okay," I say, looking into his eyes. "We'll figure it all out."

"There's not much to figure out," he grumbles, "I've lost those years of my life twice."

I give him a hopeful smile, I know I can help with those years, and I hope he'll keep me around enough to give him those memories back. "Then I'll help you rebuild what really happened. I know you Blaine Anderson, we were together for over a year before it all happened. I know things your parents couldn't tell you even if they had tried," I say, which causes him to blush and I lift his chin back up so that we're eye to eye. "Maybe you should call your mom?"

He grumbles a bit and I can tell he doesn't want to but that he'll do it anyways. "She's going to try and either cry her way out of it or spew some bullshit, probably."

I run my hand over his cheek and lean in for a kiss, which he presses back into. "You'll have to confront her eventually, why not start now?" I suggest. "Tell you what, I'll go take a shower, and you can have some privacy."

Blaine's eyes go a little dazed as he looks at me and I have to laugh, "I'd invite you to join me, but I think there may be more important things to deal with right now. There'll be... there'll be other opportunities."

He smiles softly and tangles his fingers with mine for a moment to squeeze and then he's letting go and leaving the room to find his phone and talk to his mother.

I look around at the twisted sheets for a moment before deciding to make a phone call of my own first before I take a shower. I pick up my cell from where I've dropped it and find the right contact before bringing it to my ear.

Her voice is tired when she answers, despite the fact that we're closing in on noon after all that's happened this morning, "Why are you calling me? Shouldn't you be enjoying whatever reason it was you didn't come home last night?"

"Rachel, I need you to not scream at me or try to... GPS my phone or something," I say instead of answering her questions.

It's silent over the line for a little bit before her voice comes back, full of genuine confusion, "Why would I do that?"

I shake my head at the room, "Just promise it." Rachel has a habit of overreacting, and that's something I don't need from her right now. I don't need her finding a way to track my phone and then showing up at Blaine's door. He's already had enough information thrown at him today, an overeager Rachel won't help things.

"Alright, alright," she yawns, "I won't hunt you down. What's up?"

A deep breath, a press of my lips together, "There's something I have to tell you."

I can practically hear her light up through the phone. "Are you finally going to tell me who you've been seeing?" she gasps out before the words start to tumble out of her mouth, "Wait! Is there a reason you didn't tell me? Do I know them? It's that guy who asked you out last year, isn't it? Look, I know I said he was cute and flirted with him that night at the bar, but I was just testing him, I swear he had eyes only for y–"

"Rachel."

"Right, right. Tell me."

My eyes squeeze together of their own accord, afraid of the truth that I have to tell her. Afraid to share the love of my life with anyone. It's selfish, but I want to just take him somewhere safe and hide away with him where no one can hurt us like this. "It's Blaine."

The line goes silent, and I swear she must have stopped breathing because I can't hear a thing from her. Which is quite unusual and after almost a full minute of this, I have to prompt her again, "Rachel?"

Her words are careful when she starts speaking again, "What do you mean it's Blaine?"

I steady myself and then shake my head at the almost absurdity of it all, "I mean, honest to god, straight out of a romance movie, I stumbled upon Blaine Anderson in a coffee shop two months ago."

"And you didn't say anything!?" she shrieks, enough so that I need to pull the phone away from my ear a little to not burst my eardrum.

"I know, I know," I reply, "That wasn't the whole story though."

Rachel keeps talking however, not showing a sign that she heard what I said, "He just showed up? In a coffee shop? Why didn't anyone call you or, or, he was just there!?" These are questions I've been asking myself for the past two months, and I can't answer her because I don't really have a good solid answer yet.

"Rachel," I say, grasping her attention, "He didn't know who I was."

"What?" she asks, her voice suddenly quieter, gentler, realizing only now that she's poking wounds.

I sigh, trying to explain this is complicated even to my own brain. "When he came out of that coma..." I attempt to explain, "he must have lost his memories. He didn't know me. He didn't remember McKinley. He got hit in the head enough times that night, it makes sense that those memories would just... disappear."

Rachel's voice turns hushed and a little shaky, "Oh, Kurt. He didn't know who you were?"

"No. But... I don't know," I say, shaking my head, trying to make sense of it all. I've been trying not to think about it lately, but it's all there now and I need to get it out. "There was something I guess, that drew him to me. Because he approached me, struck up a conversation with me, asked me out. And then just... everything. I was a stranger to him, but..."

She sighs softly, almost fondly, "So, all this time, this mystery man you've been dating... it's Blaine?"

"Yeah, it's Blaine," I respond, my own voice taking on a dreamy quality.

It's quiet for a while and all I can hear is Rachel's breath and some shifting sheets through the line. "When did you tell him about all this?" she asks eventually.

I look down at my spare hand which is pulling at the bed sheets, "This morning."

"You waited that long!?" she practically shouts, and I can hear a small grumble in the background that Rachel tries to subtly shush with a quiet "sorry."

I ignore what Rachel's hiding because we're talking about what I've been hiding right now, we'll get to her after. "I didn't want to scare him off," I admit, "I just wanted to have him and be happy. I knew all this drama would start once he found out, but... now he knows."

To be honest, I'm terrified that he knows now. So many things could change, things could go very wrong now that he knows I've been hiding all this from him. Blaine's scared now himself, he's got so many questions and I'm sure he's full to the brim with anger towards his parents, but once all that settles, where will that leave us?

Rachel seems to sense my uneasiness, "He knows... Is anything different?"

"I don't know yet, to be honest," I shake my head, "I mean... I think it's all going to be okay, but now he's got all this information and his parents, god, his parents, he's so angry with them. I don't think he's angry with me for not saying anything but..."

"But you're still worried."

"Yeah."

"Go back to him then, figure it out," she suggests so easily, like it's just that simple. Like there's nothing to be worried about.

I start to chew at my bottom lip. "What if he wants me to leave? Rachel, I can't do that. I can't. It'll kill me. I couldn't lose him again."

She lets out a small huff of disbelieving laughter, "Kurt... if he's anything like the Blaine from high school, there's no keeping him from you." There's a smile in her voice, I can hear it. "I mean, look around. I don't know if there's anything that can keep you apart. You and Blaine, you're like... soulmates. Like you were made specifically for each other. I don't think you have anything to be worried about."

My lips twitch with a relieved smile. Rachel doesn't know everything, but I feel like I can believe her for this. "Thanks, Rachel."

"Now, go get him," she laughs lightly, "Life tore you apart before, now don't you dare let go."

I laugh in return, I'm not sure why, but I feel so much freer now that I'm not keeping this secret alone, not that Rachel knows too. "Okay. And you, missy," I start, feeling like now's as good a time as any, "now that we've talked about this, you should have a good time with Quinn, and then you should stop lying to me about you two."

"Wh-what?" she stammered, completely flustered all of a sudden, like she doesn't know that it gives her away so easily to when she's caught off guard in a lie. "There's nothing going on there, what are you talking about, I'm perfectly capable of keeping friends you know, who are friends, wow Kurt, just, wow. There's nothing going on there. Quinn and I are not together like that. No, Kurt. No."

I grin, "Yeah, sure. Bye, Rachel."

I start to pull the phone away, Rachel's voice firmly stating, "There's nothing happening between me and Quinn!" ringing in my ear.

In the background, however, I hear the girl in question's tired voice, "Would you just shut up and tell him already? You're acting like he hasn't known for a while," before I hit the end button and smile down at my feet where they're curled up on the bed.

I get up and pad down the hall towards the washroom, overhearing Blaine's conversation a bit as I pass. I don't linger long enough to hear what they're talking about, but Blaine sounds frustrated and I want to go in there and wrap my arms around him, protect him, take away all the bad things that have happened.

While I'm in the shower, I start thinking about everything's that's happened recently. Think and wonder about those five years, at what was happening for Blaine, what his parents were thinking. I know what it was like on my end, I know what it was like to lose him and then not know what was going on, I know what it was like for our friends who hurt as well from it, but I don't know what it was like for him. Waking up and having no one from before except your family. Having no friends, no loved ones who weren't blood to welcome you back. By the time I'm towelling off my hair and pulling Blaine's sweatpants back on, my head's run so many laps around these thoughts that I'm starting to get dizzy.

I move back out to the hall, wondering if Blaine's finished his phone call by now, wondering if he's made any kind of progress with his mother. He's still talking though, when I peek my head around the corner into the kitchen, wondering if he'd like me to stay out of the room while he talks.

He beckons me in with the crook of his finger and shifts his body to face me while he keeps talking to his mother. When he mentions a "he" who could never move on, it occurs to me that I'm the topic of discussion. I move in closer and smooth my hands over his shoulders, trying to instil some form or courage or comfort into his body through the skin to skin contact. He reaches around me with his free hand, holding me close and I place a kiss to his hairline before he drops it to lean against me.

I can hear his mother's high voice through the line, not clear, but she sounds distressed. When she stops, Blaine makes a small agreeing noise and then her voice starts up again, higher, almost hopeful.

Blaine looks up at me suddenly, the honey-hazel of his eyes a little dazed and he looks like he's here with me more than he is on the phone with his mother. "I'll come back to Ohio for a bit," he says into the phone, his eyes still trained on me, trusting and full of wonder, "but I'm already home." And then he hangs up, dropping the phone onto the counter.

I offer a small amused smile and he drops his head with a small groan, "That may have been a bit rude."

"Just a bit," I reply, knowing that he deserves the chance to be a little rude before anyone really calls him on it. Blaine's straightened up in the kitchen, so the stool that was on the other side last night is now on this side. I reach out and pull it closer, sitting close in front of Blaine so that I can alternate my knees with his.

"I meant it though," he whispers, and it's so soft and delicate that it almost startles me. I was expecting anger and frustration, not this gentle man. He looks up and takes my hands in his. "I feel like I'm home with you."

My heart does a few back flips in my chest and I raise our hands to my lips, pressing a kiss into the backs of his, closing my eyes and nuzzling into them. "You haven't changed a bit, you know that?" I say, "Just as effortlessly romantic as always."

Blaine smiles and pulls our hands back into his lap, leaning forward to kiss me. Everything feels so right, feels like before, feels like everything can be okay. There's a smile on my lips when we pull back.

Despite how everything feels so right, there's still that lingering doubt, that feeling that he's going to find some reason to walk away and push me out. "Have you figured out what you're going to do?"

He looks confused, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you have all this new information. What are you going to do with it?"

He looks away and fear takes root in my stomach. I've been trying so hard not to panic, not to overthink this like I usually do with everything, but while I'm staring at the side of his jaw, his eyebrows furrowed slightly in thought, I'm sure that he's trying to figure out how to let me down easy. He parts his lips and I force myself to listen before I freak out completely. "I guess I'll try to get in contact with some of the people I knew. Let them know I'm okay. I could use your help with that."

He's said he could use my help, but I'm still not sure if he wants me here like this. There's a voice in the back of my head telling me that I'm being ridiculous, but I can't help it, I need him, and I need to know if he needs me too.

He smiles, his eyes dazzling and dancing. "I'm not going anywhere, you know," he says, and my eyes widen, I haven't been as stealthy in my panic as I thought, before I realize what he's said and my mouth starts to curve into a smile. "I still want you here. Home, remember?"

I could laugh, but I'm so nervous. He's said these words now, but I'm still afraid he could leave me. "I know, I just thought that... that after learning all this..."

Blaine pulls our hands up to his chest, right over his still beating heart; the thing I feared for five years had stopped. He catches my eye and his own are sparkling and so earnest. "Kurt," he says softly but firmly, "I... I love you." For a second I feel like my entire existence has stopped before it instantly comes back into life, more so than before, reignited by the look of adoration in Blaine's face. "Not because I did before, but because I love you now."

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me. I feel my face light up in response to his words, to the gentle offering of his heart. I dip my head down, feeling shy although he must know, "I still love you from before."

I peek a look at him and he looks like he was just awarded some beautiful prize, how doesn't he know that he always had my heart? When he was off in Ohio getting better and didn't even know who I was, he had my heart. "I think that I would too," he says, and I look back up fully, "if I could remember any of it. Maybe that's why I always felt so different around you. I always knew there was something about you."

I dart forward and kiss him, hope to let him know that the thought that he wishes he could have loved me the entire time, the thought that somehow we're still connected, makes me happier than I ever thought I could be. When I pull back I simply take in his face and the joy on it. "But I love you from now, as well," I add, letting him know that it's not just then that I love, it's not just the past versions of him, but the present as well. I love him, I love him, I love him.

"Then please return the favour," he pleads, "Tell me you're not going anywhere."

I laugh because the question is absurd. How could I leave him? I slide forward of the stool and stand between his legs. "I'm not going anywhere," I assure with a smile on my face, this is what happiness feels like, "Not without you."

Blaine laughs out a "good" and slides off his stool to join me. This is what joy feels like. This is what getting everything you ever wanted feels like. Blaine's arguments with his mother and my conversation with Rachel are far in the past. Right now, it's Blaine and me, and that's all, and that's what happiness is.

I run my hands up his back and he in turn wraps his arms around my waist. I lean in quickly, brushing past his ear to whisper, "I love you, Blaine," before coming back up, biting my bottom lip through a smile. I feel giddy and alive, getting to have this with Blaine again, to not be afraid to say the wrong thing or scare him off.

He reaches up and smoothes his palm over my cheek, "I love you, too, Kurt." He presses in for a kiss and we're both smiling. This is joy and elation and love. Pure love. I had wished and wished to have him back, but after five years, I got it in my head that it was never going to happen. But here he is, and he's mine again and he loves me and I love him and isn't that all the world ever needed?

"Guess it's some kind of fate, huh?" he asks as I pull back, grasping his hand and pulling him from the kitchen and into the hall.

"I don't care what it is," I say, "as long as I get to keep you around this time." And then we're kissing, giggling through it, and stumbling into the bedroom.

This is happiness.

This is love.

* * *

Blaine meets Rachel and Quinn the next weekend. Rachel squeals when she sees him and then starts crying, Kurt can tell he doesn't really know what to do with it. Quinn just smiles around the tears in her eyes and pulls him into a lengthy hug before they escape her eyes. "I'm so glad you're back," she says, her voice trembling.

Kurt and Blaine pay a surprise visit to Tina and Mike one evening in the following week. Kurt called ahead and said he'd be stopping by, but they didn't know he was bringing anyone. Tina nearly passes out in the doorway and Mike runs up to find out what's wrong and then spends close to two minutes simply standing and staring at Blaine before he lets out a wet laugh and wraps his arms around the shorter man.

Santana and Brittany show up at Kurt 's door a couple days after that, looking for Quinn and Rachel since they hardly spend any time apart anymore since finally letting people know they're together, but they weren't expecting Blaine to answer the door. Santana sputters for a moment before choking out "Damn, Anderson," and then hugs him. Brittany squeals the moment Santana lets go and practically leaps into his arms, declaring, "I knew you'd find your way back to us!"

Kurt skypes Mercedes and Sam in California one night and tells them he has a surprise for them. Mercedes shouts in her shock when he pulls Blaine into the frame and Sam laughs with relief.

Kurt calls his dad a week into August and tells him that he's coming home for a visit later that month and that he's got something to show him. Tells Burt that he should get Finn to come over as well and get Puck to come into town. His dad doesn't understand, but he agrees anyways, and they set a date for a party of sorts. When Burt opens the door in the last week of August he looks between Kurt and Blaine for a minute before he starts crying and hugs both his boys. Carole does the same when she joins them.

When Finn sees Blaine his eyes almost bug out of his head and he literally shouts Blaine's name before pulling him into a crushing hug. Behind Finn, Kurt notes Puck start crying through a smile before he can try and discreetly wipe away his tears. When Finn lets go of Blaine, Puck laughs to cover his tears and high-fives him, says, "Always hoped you get back in our lives, man."

The next day they go visit The Andersons, and Blaine holds Kurt's hand while he cries and yells. His parents look shame-faced throughout the whole exchange and before Kurt and Blaine leave, they bring a few boxes out of the attic and tell Blaine that everything is in them. Back in the car, parked a few blocks down the road, Blaine cries when he pulls out framed pictures of him and Kurt, him and his friends. Cries when he pulls out love notes and gifts, when he pulls out something wrapped up that he must have bought for Kurt for his graduation that never made it to his boyfriend. Kurt unwraps it and finds a letter and a ring, a real promise ring, the note says, one not made out of candy and gum wrappers. The letter is signed with _I love you, always. Blaine_.

Blaine kisses Kurt right there in Lima, Ohio, a few blocks away from the people who tore his memories away from him for the second time, pushes the ring onto Kurt's finger and swears, "I love you so much. One day, one day it won't be a promise ring, one day it'll be a wedding ring."

They laugh a little through their tears and this is what it all comes down to: love. The kind that they both know can carry through even the worst of situations. The kind they know they'll always have.

Without anything else, they'll always have love, and isn't that enough?


End file.
